Should One Trust the Fashion Choices of a Rattailed Woman?

Yesterday I bought a new shirt.  

Today I saw a woman I know, who, as recently as two years ago, sported a beaded rattail...

wearing that same shirt.  

So, should I take it back?

Should I go with my initial gut instinct that it's a cute shirt and just keep it?

Does having ever sported a rattail exclude one from ever being able to make a good fashion decision in the choice of a shirt?  

How do past rattails affect future fashion choices?  

Thoughts please...

The ski lift that got the best of me...one and a half times.

Every once in awhile I get in a weird mood when I decide that I've spent enough time relaxing in my comfort zone and think to myself, 'it's time to do something that scares you/makes you uncomfortable.'  


My most recent comfort zone departure?...Skiing.  Yes, I, Becca B., went skiing for the first time in 20 (not rounded up...truly 20) years.  


Prior to last month I'd only been skiing once in my life...when I was 12.  I went with a friend who'd grown up skiing, but I had never been.  My mom always said it was too expensive, which it is, but secretly I also wonder if my parents are ski-wimps like me and just didn't want to have to take us.   


Anyway, I, as an innocent little 12 year-old went skiing with my friend Angie. She let me go down the Bunny Hill twice before she talked me into going up the mountain.  The plan was to get off at the first stop.  The plan failed.  The first stop came.  Angie got off.  I got scared that if I got off the lift I'd instantly start uncontrollably speeding down the mountain.  So, I stayed on.  Past the first stop, and the second, and then I saw the third, and final stop coming up.  In my 12 year old mind I imagined what would happen if I didn't get off this time...my chair would turn and head back down the mountain and inevitably at the bottom I'd be sucked into some big piece of machinery and would be chopped into dog-food sized pieces.  


And I didn't want to be chopped into dog-food sized pieces.  So at the very top, and last chance for life, I flung myself off the lift.  Yes, yes, imagine head and arms first, torso and legs and skis and poles following...and everything landing in one big heap.  But I was safe.  Yes, I, a completely inexperienced at skiing (and now friend/ski instructor-less) 12 year-old, was at the very top of the mountain by myself. But it was okay.  The big chair lift rotator machine would not soon be tearing me to pieces.  Disaster averted.  


So I did what any normal, inexperienced-at-skiing-but-somehow-on-the-top-of-the-mountain-by-herself, 12 year-old girl would do.  


I cried.  


And then I took my skis off, sat next to them, and slid on my behind down the mountain while trying to keep track of my skis and poles and doing my best to ignore the expletives coming from those who skied around me.  


As I recall, I spent the rest of the day in the ski lodge eating french fries and drinking hot chocolate.  I may have ventured out onto the Bunny Hill again, but I know that I did not get back onto that torturous chair lift.  


Angie never invited me to go skiing again...no surprise there.  But, we did remain friends...which was good.  I even went to her wedding, years later, when she married my 3rd grade ex-boyfriend.  


In the coming years I had opportunities to go skiing, but the emotional wounds from that first experience were still too fresh, so I never went.  And, by the time those wounds did heal, my teenage years were over and I guess I just got busy.  And although I lived in Utah for 8+ years, surrounded by fantastic ski resorts, with offers from friends to take me skiing, and even free skiing passes from a relative with connections at one of the resorts...I never did go.  By that time all I really did was school and work, and then work and travel, and then grad school and work again.  No time for scary new hobbies.  


But then came 2012.  A friend had connections for cheap passes at Kelly Canyon, the location of that fateful ski trip 20 years ago.  And I told myself, 'now or never Becca...time to face your fears...you are well on your way to getting old, brittle, and decrepit, so you'd better go skiing now, while you still can.'


And so I did.  


The only ski-appropriate winter coat I owned was a circa 1996 forest green and maroon Columbia brand coat...in near mint condition by the way.  But I decided that my mere presence on the ski slopes would be embarrassing enough for myself and my friends, and decided it was time to buy a new ski-coat.   

Thank heavens for the end-of-season sales at Macy's.  I got this coat for a steal of a deal.  I thought maybe I should leave the tags on the coat as sort of a "New Skier Warning" to those around me, but I figured my skiing techniques alone would warn the wise to stay away.  

When I was trying on coats, trying to decide which one would suit my new ski hobby best, my brother Tyler was there.  I put on one of the coats I was considering and made side to side skiing motions...like a pro would do, and said to Tyler, "which one of these coats looks the best on me when I'm skiing?"  To which Tyler replied, "I don't think it really matters...because you won't look like that when you ski...you'll look like this..."(and then he made the ski motions of someone freaking out and falling down).  And he was right.  It didn't really matter.  I wasn't going to look like the graceful ski-pro I saw in my head.

Here I am at the bottom of the mountain before I put the hat on that would make me hate the rest of my pictures.  And by the way, from this angle, the mountain looks less like the formidable torture chamber it was, and more like a hill...but it wasn't as mild as it looks, I promise.  

My friend Heidi...who was kind enough, patient enough, and dumb enough to agree to go skiing with me!  She really was the best person ever to go skiing with because she's been skiing since age 5ish...so she's really good, but three of her kids were with her so she couldn't be too fast or awesome.  So I just tagged along as her 4th kid.  

Heidi's 7 year-old daughter, Rylie, helped coach me along too.  We even did a few runs down the mountain by ourselves when Heidi was on the Bunny Hill with her younger daughter, Kenzley.  Rylie was so cute.  She'd say things like, "come on Becca, you can do it, you're doing so great, you haven't even fallen yet!"   And when we got to the bottom she said to Heidi, "Mom, Becca didn't even run into the trees this time!"  It was so funny to get cheered on by my little 7 year-old friend who is 25 years younger than I am, and who is much better at making it down the mountain in one piece.  

I ran into (fortunately not literally) one of my Beehives, Abby, who, thanks to my new coat, wasn't too embarrassed to do a couple of runs with me.  It was fun.  

So you're probably all wondering (if you're still reading this long post) how I did on this 20-years-later facing-my-fears ski extravaganza.  

Well, the first thing we did was head up that very chair lift that gave me so much angst 20 years ago.  But this time I was determined.  I would get off.  I would not let the chair lift get the best of me two times.  But when it came time to get off the lift, I once again saw what had given my little 12 year-old heart so much fear...a steep little hill that seemed to blend right into the mountain which, in my mind, seemed to lead me to believe that if I skied off the lift, I'd end up on an uncontrolled trip straight down the steepest part of the mountain, which would lead to certain death, or at least a broken leg.  And I don't have the greatest health insurance.  So I didn't want a broken leg.

So instead of gracefully skiing off the lift like my friends in front of me did, I, once again, flung myself from the lift and into a snowdrift on the side of the lift.  Head and arms leading, and everything else following.  I ended up in some sort of a convoluted pretzel situation...me, my limbs, my skis, and my poles.  As my "friends" Lorina and Heidi doubled over in laughter, I tried to untangle myself.  The guy from the little chair lift shack came over and offered help, but I said "no thanks."  Because first of all, I too, was laughing uncontrollably, and wasn't sure if I'd be able to get myself up (even with help)...and because I was just having one of those moments...where, even though help would probably be useful, you just want to deal with the situation yourself.  

Anyway, I got off that lift.  Not gracefully by any means, but I got off.  So I'm counting this one a tie.  The chair lift may have beat me that first time 20 years ago, but this time I didn't let it beat me all the way...just half of the way.  

The rest of the night we took a different chair lift up.  One that was way less intimidating to exit from.  And I didn't fall again...at least not when getting off the lift.  I guess that lift we'd happened to go up when I first skied as a 12 year-old was one of the steepest to exit.  I found the other lift much less scary.  What a tragedy though...if I'd only taken an easier lift 20 years ago, I probably would have loved skiing, and probably would have ended up as an Olympic skier...and then I wouldn't be in the middle of a major career crisis.  But I guess I shouldn't say "if only..." 

Anyway, we went down the mountain lots more times.  I really like skiing.  I guess the worst part really is getting off that one chair lift at Kellys (which I am determined to someday master).  

I did fall a lot...

and spent quite a bit of time like this (this is actually after I untwisted myself from another pretzel situation) while Heidi laughed uncontrollably.  

and came home with more than my fair share of bruises...like this ugly one covering the whole side of my leg.  (I kinda can't believe I'm showing this ugly leg picture on my blog but then I guess I've shown my morning hair, so there's really nothing to hide now).  

And I hurt.  And I could barely move...for two days.  

But, I had sooooooo much fun and laughed so much and would definitely go again.  And the last two times down the mountain I didn't fall at all.  So I know that somewhere inside of me lies dormant an amazing (or at least mediocre) skier.  

At the beginning of our trip, Heidi reminded her kids of their skiing rules....which, if I remember right, were:

1) No complaining, and

2) No crying

And, this time, as a 32 year-old, I was able to keep the rules of skiing.  I didn't cry, I didn't complain, and I didn't end up in the lodge eating french fries.  Progress...definite progress.  

MoLent

Ash Wednesday...the beginning of Lent.  Or, for me, the beginning of MoLent...Mormon Lent.  I know I'm not Catholic.  And although the Catholics have had some pretty bad ideas in the past like:

Inquisitions

Indulgences

and

Incense (makes for stinky cathedrals)

...I do think they're on to something with the idea of Lent.  

I first learned a little about the Catholic traditions leading up to Easter while serving a mission in 90+% Catholic Argentina.  I didn't pay too much attention to the whole Lent and fasting thing until one evening, about six months into my time in Argentina, when my Uruguayan companion decided she wanted to stop by our local hamburger stand and order a hamburger on our way home that night...a hamburger at 9:30 p.m.?...I won't judge, I won't judge.  

Anyway, she stepped up to the counter and asked for a hamburger.  "A hamburger?," the man at the counter asked back.  "Yes, a hamburger," my companion reiterated.  "Oh, okay," the man said, "let me go see if we have any buns." Upon returning he told her, "we don't have any buns because we weren't planning on serving any hamburgers today, but we can serve your hamburger on bread instead if you'd like."  My companion and I looked at each other with a "what the heck kind of a hamburger stand doesn't have buns because they weren't planning on serving hamburgers?" look on our faces and left the stand after my companion kindly declined the man's hamburger sandwich offer.  

As we walked home we discussed the oddness of the hamburger stand that didn't want to serve hamburgers.  Back at our apartment, while planning for the next day, I noticed on my calendar the words "Good Friday" stamped across the day's date and instantly realized why the man at the hamburger stand was so perplexed that we wanted to order a hamburger from him.  It was Good Friday...and Argentina is Catholic...and Catholics don't eat meat on Good Friday.  Then we got the giggles.  At the thought of two sister missionaries trying to order a hamburger on the biggest anti-meat day of the year.  

Anyway, I quickly learned that I needed to know a little more about Catholicism since it seemed to be synonymous with being Argentine.  And I'm no expert for sure, but my time in Latin America, as well as the explanations of a good Catholic friend I made in SLC, have helped me understand their traditions a little more than I did on that Good Friday long ago.  

As I've learned more about Lent I've decided that it's a really good idea...to give up something that's maybe hard to give up...just for a short time.  This year for the first time, I decided to start a tradition (maybe a tradition, if this year doesn't kill me) of doing MoLent.  Catholic Lent is, I think, 46 days long...the time between Ash Wednesday and Easter Sunday because traditionally Sundays were already a day of sacrifice and fasting so they wouldn't count them as part of the 40 days.  But, as a Mormon, I think I'll just stick to the 40 days, like Jesus did.  Besides I'm going on a trip at the beginning of April and don't want to be all MoLenty and boring on the trip, so the 46 days of Catholic Lent just won't work for me this year.    

I decided to start off my MoLent tradition with a bang (hopefully a good bang)...giving up sugar and t.v./movies for 40 days and 40 nights. 

So, wish me luck...or join me if you want.  I'd love to hear what you'd be willing to give up for MoLent...candy, pop, the SNOOZE button, t.v., the Internet, Facebook?...What would you like to see yourself survive without for a time?  You should do it...I dare you...

Year-end Summary 2011

I've been a major blogger slacker lately!  But so have most of you too!  I've missed reading all of your posts.  Also, when I changed to this new blog format I lost all the addresses to the private blogs I was reading.  So, if your blog is private and you miss all the thoughtful comments I used to write on your blog, leave your blog address in a comment por favor and I will once again peruse your blogs.  


It's been a long time (for me anyway) since I last posted.  I haven't even done a 2011 year-end summary yet!  I've done a year-end summary every year since I started blogging in 2007 so I decided that even though it's February that I'd still do it.  So, here you go...

2011...

alcohol units consumed: 0 (excellent)

cigarettes: 0 (v.g.)

pounds lost: 30

pound re-gained: 20

pounds re-lost: 15

countries visited: 3 (not too great)

countries visited for the first time: 2

time spent abroad: 2.5 months (not too shabby)

blog posts: 37 (not bad)

nephews born: 1, and he's adorable

parents returned safely to me: 2 (most excellent)

prison stays: 0 (v.g.)

buckets of cheese puffs received: 2

buckets of cheese puffs gifted: 1

2011 was a decent year as far as years go.  I once again stayed away from alcohol and cigarettes, lost a little weight and re-gained it and re-lost it a time or two...just to keep everyone guessing what I'd look like the next time they saw me and to keep my clothes nice and stretched out.  I visited three countries, two of which were new to me.  So I definitely slowed down from my 2010 wanderings but still got to travel a bit, which is always good.  I got my parents back from their captors in Brazil, and got an adorable new nephew to make our family even bigger and better.  And I learned that if you make fun of something, like polygamist cheese puffs, that you're sure to get some for Christmas!  Anyway, here's a breakdown of the year...


January: I spent the first part of January sick.  I think I'd just gotten too worn down trying to entertain a posse of Brazilians over Christmas and the lack of sleep and stress made me vulnerable to the swine flu or some other horrible disease.  I didn't do anything for about a week or so.  My grandma/roommate was recovering from a surgery she'd had shortly after Christmas.  So the first part of the month I just pretty much hibernated in the basement so I wouldn't get her sick while she was healing from her surgery.  Luckily we both got feeling better in not too long and I was even able to head to Ecuador at the end of the month for a few days of solo traveling on my way to Brazil to visit my parents one last time.  


February: I spent the whole month with my parents in Brazil.  It was great to be able to visit one last time.  I finally convinced my mom to travel out to Jericoacoara with me and we had a wonderful little trip.  


March: My BTF (Best Travel Friend) Kate (sadly now ex-BTF due to her recent marriage) met me in Fortaleza and we spent a couple days with my parents before flying down to Southern Brazil.  We spent time in Paraty, Trinidade, Gramado, and Florianopolis.  It was a great last trip for two spinster friends who have traveled the world together during the past six years.  


April: Back in the USA...can't remember much about this month.  I guess I worked and got ready for my next trip.


May:  Headed off on a month-long adventure to India with my friend Marissa (also recently lost to marriage R.I.P.). It was probably the least planned trip I'd ever been on as we had only two nights' hotel booked for a month-long trip when we arrived in the country.  But, somehow things worked out okay and it turned out to be one of my very favorite trips I've ever been on.  What an adventure!


June:  I returned to America half way through the month and frantically began preparing things for my parents' imminent return.  My parents were safely returned to us at the end of the month.  It was/is so wonderful to have them home.  


July:  Idaho at its best...I love July in Idaho.  The weather is perfect, the 4th of July is fantastic.  I spent the month just hanging out with my family and making up for lost time with my parents.  


August: Birthday month...yuck.  I did take a little trip to Utah to visit friends, celebrate my birthday, and to hike the Y for the first time ever.  So, it wasn't all bad, even though I don't like getting all old and decrepit.  


September: Must have worked a lot because I don't remember much about this month except how amazingly beautiful the weather was...especially for Fall in Idaho.  


October: Same as September...beautiful Fall weather and lots of work.  My mom and I threw a fun (at least in my opinion) Ghouls' Night Out Halloween celebration.  It is so great to have her around again...especially for party planning purposes.  


November:  Was blessed to get nephew #2 born on 11/11/11.  Coolest birthday ever for the coolest/cutest little baby ever.  


December: Lots of work but barely any snow, which I was ecstatic about.  And the holidays...it was so great to all be together again for Christmas.  We had fun even though there wasn't any snow and we all (including our Brazilian house-guest) got sick over Christmas.  I'm blaming norovirus...it was pretty powerful.   


Anyway, 2011 had its ups and downs but overall it was a pretty good year. 


A few weeks ago it snowed just a little (we've had the most amazingly wonderful mild winter which I won't complain about).  While I was driving I passed a little girl playing out in her yard in a dated puffy pink snowsuit.  It had snowed just enough to start to fill in the spaces between the blades of grass but not to come even close to covering the grass.  But the little girl was enthusiastically making, or attempting to make, a snow angel in the pathetic amount of snow there was. And she was happy...really happy.  Even though her snowsuit was a little small for her and definitely out of style.  Even though there wasn't nearly enough snow to play in.  Even though she was all by herself.  And even though she was in a poorer, slightly sketchy neighborhood.  She was happy. Genuinely happy.  

And that's kind of how I've felt lately.  Like that little girl in a poor neighborhood in an dated pink snowsuit making a snow-angel in a quarter inch of snow.  Maybe by the standards of the world she shouldn't have been so pumped about her situation, but she was oblivious to the judgments of the world and had a big smile on her face anyway.  

And so do I.  I may be a 32 year-old tragic spinster, who has lost her six best travel friends to marriage in the past year (R.I.P. spinsters, R.I.P.), who is suffering a major career crisis, and who maybe by the standards of the world shouldn't be happy, but who somehow is anyway.  

So, here's to a fantastic, obliviously happy, 2012!  

Merry Christmas Everyone!

It's that time of year for my annual blog-delivered Christmas greeting.  I've searched for just the right inspirational message to share with you and decided that the best thing I could do (since I'm not really the inspirational message type) is to bring you all a bit of holiday cheer via a mini-episode of Rigby 911.  

I have a stack of crime logs I've been collecting for several months from that great literary work, The Jefferson Star, that have just been waiting in all their glory for me to share them.  I circled or highlighted the 911 calls I considered to be the funniest/most interesting/most ridiculous.  They included the typical weird Rigby things like: a woman complaining because "dogs were doing things in her backyard," a man calling to get permission from the police to shoot some pigeons that were pestering him, cars being ransacked, juveniles running wild, hot tubs being discovered under tarps in old sheds (LOVE shack baby!), someone calling to report that their house "might have been burglarized" (yeah, call us back when you're sure), and the typical collection of calls relating to people being potentially scammed or calling to report fraudulent charges on their credit cards.  

So, there was quite a little collection of super special 911 calls from, I'm sure, super special people.  There's no way I could be a 911 dispatcher...especially in a little place like Rigby.  I would bust up laughing at 90% of the calls...people are so ridiculous about what they'll call 911 about.  

Anyway, I decided to just share my top two favorite 911 calls, maybe favorite of all time.  I just feel they are so good that I didn't want the other, just normal good, calls to take away from these two.  So, here you go.  These are real and are written word for word as I took them from the Rigby crime log.  

12:40 p.m. Suspicious circumstance reported on 336 N. in Rigby.  A resident called to inform police that corn syrup was in the storage room in the home and no one in the house knew where it came from.

What the what the????????  First of all, who doesn't have objects of unknown origin in their storage room?...Second of all, don't call the 911 EMERGENCY line.  Just throw the corn syrup away you paranoid weirdos!

and this one...

6:24 p.m. Information given in Northwest Hamer.  A resident reported that someone is in a red parasail and shooting animals from the sky.

I'm not a fan of hunting (at all), but I think this Hamerite may have just invented the coolest/most dangerous sport ever.  

And one more for the road...

12:31 a.m. Disturbing the peace reported on N. Rigby.  Resident called to report that the neighbors were singing loudly.

Fa la la la la la la la laaaaaaaa!

Merry Christmas everyone!  (Oh, and sorry about the singing!)

The Buzzing of Beehives...

Last year before heading to Ecuador and Brazil for six weeks I turned in my Church standard issue sweat-pant skirt, given to all nursery leaders, and was released from my calling as Official Church Babysitter/Toddler Referee.  (Okay, the sweat-pant skirt part is not true, but I think it should be.)  I knew I'd be in South America for six weeks, followed by a couple of months home, and then a month in India, and I wasn't really sure how long I'd be in S.E. Idaho anyway, so I just thought it would be better to get released and not have to find 2.5 months worth of substitutes.     


After returning from India I was able to stay under the radar for a few months and just got to enjoy sitting in church responsibility-less with my parents.  But then at the end of August my mom and I were called to work in the Young Women Program...me as Beehive Advisor and my mom as the Mia Maid Advisor.     


To be completely honest I was pretty excited to get the calling...and if they'd let me choose which age group I wanted to work with, it would have been the Beehives.  I just find that age of kids to be so funny.  Some of them get sarcasm, some of them don't.  Some of them are still very little kid and others are quite grown up.  It's just an awkward, funny age.  And, let's just be honest, it's an age when they still adore authority figures (like myself)...and who doesn't love being adored?  


I was also kind of surprised to get the calling...I didn't know I was considered to be orthodox enough to work with impressionable young people.  But, I guess I am...either that or the Bishopric doesn't know me as well as I think they know me!  I'll try not to do too much damage.  


So, I was pumped...until I realized that I was 18-20 years old when they were all born!  A momentary "holy crap I'm old" depression set in, but then I just decided that you're never too old to be cool, and that it probably didn't matter anyway that I technically could have mothered a child that age.  


Anyway, even though working in the Young Women program sometimes feels like a part-time job, it has been fun.  It's a little rowdier than Relief Society...much more my style.  And I have super fond memories of my own time in Young Women.  I loved my leaders (most anyway) and enjoyed the activities and lessons (most anyway).  


So, so far so good.  This week for mutual, we had class activities.  My mom had the Mia Maids come to her house for a Christmas party/game night.  After I was finished with the Beehive activity that was held at my partner leader's house, I stopped by my parents' house.  


I walked into their house, and when I opened the door I saw my mom, her co-leader, and two Mia Maids quietly playing a card game, listening to jazzy Christmas music, and eating a variety of Christmas snacks in the most refined manner possible. 


I looked like this...

my mom looked up, and with shock on her face said, "what happened to you?" (Thinking that: 1) it was super windy outside, 2) I'd been attacked by my dad's sheepdog, Big Ralph, 3) I'd been beaten up, or 4) I finally actually saw Sasquatch in that part of my parents' yard where I'm sure he lives.)  

I replied, "Beehives."

She, and the other Mia Maid people laughed and my mom said, "well, were you guys having a hair styling night or something?"

"Nope," I said, "we were tying quilts."

And that pretty much explains Beehives.  Supposedly Beehives are named as such to stand for harmony, cooperation, and industry.  But really, secretly, I think they gave the 12-14 year old girls that name to explain nights like last night...when you feel like you've just spent a couple of hours inside an actual beehive...bees buzzing and bouncing around everywhere around you.  Fortunately, we have really great girls in Beehives and none of them sting.

But don't worry, I wasn't the only one to get put through the beehive.  I'm not sure how it all started but by the end of the night, and 2.5 cups of Paul Mitchell Freeze and Shine Super Hold Hairspray later, we all looked like this:

As we got into the car to leave I said to the girls riding with me (since they all brought scissors from home for the quilt tying), "please try not to poke each other's eye out with your scissors on the way home." 

To which one of the girls replied, "or with your hair!"  

The good news though is that everyone made it home safely and no eyeballs were lost.  As I went to bed with my crispy hair poking my pillow I wondered what it would look like in the morning.  And sadly, when I woke up this morning, my hair looked pretty much like it always does in the morning...completely crazy and standing on end.  So I guess I can't blame the Beehives for everything.  

While we were at my co-leader's house for the activity, her husband and son were frantically working to re-carpet their basement before her other son's mission farewell this Sunday.   At one point they came up the stairs carrying a huge roll of old carpet.  The Beehives stopped buzzing for a minute and one of them asked what was going on.  To which I sarcastically replied, "they've got to get that body out of the basement before Sunday...it's starting to stink." 

I'm not sure why I responded that way...I know, I'm weird.  But that's the first thing that came to my mind when I saw the two men hurriedly removing a giant roll of old carpet from their basement.  I guess I've been watching too much Monk lately.  

But, my weird comment was totally worth it because of the girls' responses.  

One girl laughed and said, "haaaaa I get it...you're funny."

One girl, with a look of sheer terror on her face and a near-tear voice said, "what body?"

And the other 10?...didn't even process what I said and went right on back to buzzing about the new Justin Bieber look-alike at school.  

And that, is why I love Beehives!

God's Own Country

Okay, I know I've been back from India for almost six months now, but I'm still going to finish blogging it...because this is pretty much the only record I have of my existence and adventures.  So read it if you want to be entertained and informed...or ignore it if you want! 

From Delhi Marissa and I took an early morning flight to Kochi, a city in the state of Kerala in Southwestern India...right on the Indian Ocean.  

I had really good intentions of working out every day while I was in India and I did work out a couple of times.  So I had hand weights with me and when we were traveling down to Kerala and the luggage allowance was a lot less than it was for my international flight, I decided to carry-on my hand weights to cut down on the weight of my checked bag.  Apparently you can't have hand weights in your carry-on though.  I guess you could do some pretty serious damage to someone's skull with a weight, but you could do even more damage by nailing someone over the head with a loaded carry-on, so I don't really get it.  I guess I've never traveled with hand weights before so I never thought about them being a weapon of mass destruction.  

So, when I went through security they stopped me, rummaged through my bag and pulled out the weights.  I could tell that they didn't want to have to take the weights away from me, a girl who obviously needed to use them and who was most likely not a terrorist, so the girl asked another person working security if the weights were okay to send through with me...and that person went and got a supervisor...and that person went and got another person and by the end there were five or six security people gathered around the weights.  It was so funny because each person that would come to inspect the weights would pick them up, do a couple of bicep curls and then set them down again.  In the end they told me that I could go back and check them, but by that point our flight was boarding and I just told them to keep them.  Hopefully some Indian is getting buff with them right now.  They were these old pink 1990's weights that my mom and I used to use when we'd do step aerobics together when I was back in high school...so, I figured it wouldn't be that great of a loss.  I know that was a long tangent but it was really funny at the time so I wanted to remember it.  

On one portion of the flight...from Delhi to Mumbai... I sat by this guy...

kinda scary.  I wonder if he realized he could just put the window shade down and didn't have to go all blind bandit to keep the sun out of his eyes.  I guess he didn't.  

Then the next leg of the flight...from Mumbai to Kochi I sat my a little chubby Indian girl wearing a Hannah Montana hat (kinda made me sad...I don't like the Disneyization of the world) who kept touching my arm and then looking away when I'd look her way.  Seriously...I think she touched my arm at least 10 times in the short flight.  'Yes, yes little girl, I am white,' I thought.  It was kinda funny...and kinda annoying...I was trying to sleep.  

Anyway, after two flights, and a long bus ride from Kochi to Fort Kochi sitting by a guy carrying a giant tub of Tang ("What's up with that giant tub o' Tang?"), and an auto rickshaw ride from a guy who kept trying to convince us to stay at his friend's hotel instead of the guest house we had a reservation at, we finally made it to our destination...the Green Woods-Bethlehem.  

It was a simple little guest house...out in a cute little residential neighborhood.  

It was the kind of place that was clean and safe but had skinny little mattresses that reminded me of my mission in Argentina.  

It was the kind of place with interesting Jesus art...

 and owners who greet you at the end of your day and sometimes even have dinner waiting for you (although Sheeba's curry made me yell "FIRE, FIRE, FIRE" to Marissa as I ran for water)...

Their names are Ashley and Sheeba, and by the end of our week there we felt like we had parents in India.  They were great people.  

Ashely and Sheeba are big time Christians (hence the interesting Jesus artwork everywhere), which is kind of unusual for India since only a little over 2% of Indians are Christian, but which is much more common in the state of Kerala, in which 19% of people are Christians.  

Interestingly, according to tradition, Kerala is so super Christian because Thomas, one of the original apostles of Christ, came to Kerala to preach and organize the church there back in 52 A.D.  So, that might be part of the reason why there's such a big Christian community in Kerala, but I'm guessing it has more to do with the Europeans who settled Kerala...first the Portuguese and then the Dutch.  

Anyway, blah, blah, history, blah.  So anyway, Kerala is a pretty unique and beautiful place...in fact so beautiful they call it "God's own country." 

And Kerala is a nice, beautiful, peaceful place, but I don't think I'd go as far as to call it "God's own country," because I don't think God's country would be so freaking humid.  It was hot...even super roasting hot at times...in the other parts of India we visited, but it was a dry heat and much more tolerable.  But Kerala was extremely humid and sometimes hot and humid...and my self esteem came crashing down.  Because I'd do my hair and it would look like this...

 and less than 10 minutes later, it would look like this...

Take that, plus the shiny humid face, and it was a recipe for self-esteem disaster.  

Oh wait, and I forgot about the rain...all the rain...and that made the self-esteem situation even worse.  We thought we could beat the monsoon season's arrival in Kerala...and normally we would have, but this year, the monsoon season arrived in Kerala a week early.  Dang.  

But really it wasn't that bad.  It was kind of fun to experience, since we didn't have much rain during the other parts of our trip and planning around and talking about the Monsoon season is such a big part of Indian life, it was fun to experience it.  Besides, we would have missed out on having a guy who passed us while slowly riding a bike in the rain, soggy cigarette hanging from his mouth, say to us with a thick Indian accent, "rain, rain, go away!"  

During our time in Kerala it rained and rained and rained.  We'd usually get a few hours of sunshine during the day, but it always rained at night.  

But luckily there were a plethora of auto-rickshaws available to drive us around in the rain.  

I like auto-rickshaws...I wish we had them in America, but only if they were as cheap as Indian auto-rickshaws.  Sometimes we'd find ourselves arguing with our rickshaw drivers over the price of the ride...and then we'd realize that when we converted the Rupees to Dollars we were arguing over the difference between a 75¢ and a $1 ride that we were splitting between us and three other friends we made at the guest house.  

Anyway, we found some interesting artwork in Kerala.  The following picture is one we saw in a restaurant in Fort Kochi.  

I would like to title it, "Skinny man with pointy nose and prissy lips marries woman with ginormous jugs while creepy preacher and wedding guests check her out."  I think that about covers it all.  

Kerala has quite a different cuisine from the other parts of India...not surprising given the size of India.  It was fun to get to try some different food...

like this dish, called "dosa."  It was pretty good.  It's kinda like a sourdoughish crepe that you can get with lots of different sauces or fillings.  

I can't remember the names of any of the other new foods we tried, but overall the food in Kerala was very good.  They cook with a lot of seafood, coconut, peanut, etc.  It kind of reminded me of Thai food...and I liked it.  But by the end of our week there I was dying for some naan, since we were unable to find any in Kerala.  Most of the menus included naan, but the restaurants didn't ever seem to actually have naan.  It kind of seemed like, even at nice restaurants, the menus were more of a suggestion of what they might have and not so much a representation of what they were actually serving...which seems pretty typical of a developing country.  

Anyway, enough about food...back to the Christians.  Our first day in Fort Kochi we saw a bunch of people gathered on the beach.  They were there for a baptismal service, so we invited ourselves to it, and stayed to watch.  

They didn't go very far out in the ocean...instead they'd wait for a big wave to come in and dunk the person into the wave.  Here they are waiting for a big one...

Anyway, they weren't maybe so picky about complete immersion as we Mormons are, but they at least had the right idea.  

After watching the baptismal service and enjoying the talks and refreshments afterwards (J/K), we made our way along the beach for a little more sightseeing.  All along the beach there are fishermen fishing and other fishermen selling fish.  You can buy fish right from them and take it to one of the many restaurants in the area and they'll cook it for you.  But I like a little more distance between the fish I eat and the plate I eat them on...in other words, I don't want to be involved in any of the fish consumption process, except the eating part.  So I didn't buy any fish from this little guy...

especially with the feet of his friends swinging dangerously close to the fish.  As if fish itself isn't sketchy enough.  

And, as was the case with everywhere else we went in India, people wanted pictures with us.  Often it seemed like it was the richer, more well educated people who wanted pictures...maybe they were the only ones with cameras or maybe they were the only ones who thought we were cool.  

And I never did tell them that back in America I'm not cool at all.  

One morning while we were in Kerala, Marissa and I got up super early to go with three friends we made at the guest house (an older Scottish woman who was in India teaching English, a graduate student from the US, and a hot Swiss National Geographic photographer) to an "elephant sanctuary" about an hour away.  I didn't put "elephant sanctuary" in quotes to suggest it was an elephant torture camp, but because I thought it would be a big place with hundreds of retired elephants but instead it was just the banks of a slow flowing river where there were five or six elephants getting their morning bath from their mahouts (elephant drivers).  

Even though it wasn't quite as I imagined it would be, it was still cool because it was just us, the elephants, the mahouts, and a few fellow tourists.  It was early morning and there was steam coming off the river and we could hear beautiful music coming from a Christian church service on the hill overlooking the river.  It was quite a serene scene. 

The elephants seemed to enjoy their baths...this little guy in front is so relaxed he has his mouth wide open.  Aaaaaaaaah his actions seemed to say.  

They cut up coconut husks to make the brushes they scrub the elephants with. When I learned we'd be seeing the elephants bathe I imagined the elephants lathered in bubble bath, but they didn't use any type of soap...just water and a good coconut husk scrubbing.  I don't know why they'd use soap to clean the elephants...I've seen elephants bathe in Thailand and they didn't use soap there either.  Maybe soap dries out the elephants' skin...I don't know.  

To make a short story long, let me pause here to tell you about power outages in India...they are pretty much a daily occurrence.  During the month we were in India I'd guess that the power went out for at least some portion of the day every day except maybe two or three days.  All of our hotels on the "tourist belt" of Delhi, Jaipur, Agra, and Varanasi had generators of some sort so the power outages didn't affect us for long.  McLeodganj in the north had pretty decent power...I think the power loss free days we did enjoy in India were all in the McLeodganj area.  But the power went out every single day that we were in Kerala.  

Depending on what part of the day the power went out I was sometimes able to do my hair.  But a couple of days we left early to sight-see and there was no power.  And no power for Becca means no hairdryer or flat iron which leads to dangerously low levels of self-esteem.  I pretty much have two options when I can't do my hair.  Option 1)wear a hat and look like a Lesbian...I just don't look good in hats, or 2)wear a do-rag and look like a cancer fighter.  And since I prefer to look like neither a Lesbian or cancer survivor I like electricity...a lot.

But, the morning of the elephant baths we had no electricity.  So, to make a long story short, I know I look dumb in these pictures.  I guess awareness is the first step.  

I took a ton of pictures of the elephants.  I guess because I really like elephants and think they are cool.  Any animal with a 22 month gestation period, followed by the delivery of a 230ish pound baby deserves some special attention.  

We got to get super up close and personal with the elephants.  It was fun but a little scary since elephants are responsible for about 500 human deaths a year.  But I guess with a world population of seven billion people...odds are that I wouldn't get killed by an elephant...although I guess I was increasing my chances by standing right in front of it and grabbing its trunk.  But, the good news is that I survived and am living to tell you all about it.  

Just a cool picture of a mahout driving his elephant out of the water...

These Asian elephants are pretty small compared to their African cousins.  

This guy is going after a little snack in the bushes after taking his morning swim.  I don't know what it is about swimming but it always gives me the munchies too...I guess some things are universal between species.  

I guess this elephant's mahout missed a spot so he had to rinse himself!

I mentioned that we made friends with, and hung out a couple of days with three people from our hostel...one who was a good looking Swiss National Geographic photographer.  He was such a nice guy and it was fun traveling around with him and seeing him take pictures.  It's too bad he wasn't Mormon and that my self-esteem was dangerously low because we would have made a great couple!  

He took an amazing picture of this lady...so, if it ever ends up being like the famous Afghan girl picture then I guess I'll have a little claim to fame too since I was there when he took it!  

We also went with our new found friends to a cultural show in Fort Kochi.  It was, as are all the cultural shows I've ever been to in Asia, quite weird but quite interesting as well.  

Two of the days we were there we got some sunshine during the day and took a ferry and an interesting and sort of long local bus ride to a better beach for swimming.  It was gorgeous and the water was nice and warm but we didn't do much more than wade because the Indians don't really wear swimming suits...at least not in this part of India.  So any of them who were swimming were doing so fully clothed and we weren't really too keen on the idea of that long bus ride/ferry ride back to Fort Kochi soaking wet.  

So we just lay out in our swimming suits covered up with our clothes and read our books.  It was still fun though and was just nice to be on a warm beach.  The above picture was the view we had.  Two tourists, a guy and a girl, near us were lying out in their swimming suits and it wasn't long before a group of about 10 men were gathered sitting on the rocks above them just staring at them and taking pictures.  The Indians are kind of shameless about staring.  

We got pictures taken of us too, but at least we were clothed.  I find modesty to be kinda weird in India.  Because I was being kind a slutty wearing my knee-length shorts that day and yet most of the women only wear a half shirt under their sari.  So their bellies...often even fat bellies, are just hanging out.  So, in their culture the belly must be okay to show but the legs not...it's kind of weird because in our culture it is more inappropriate to show the belly.  

It was fun to watch the Indian tourists splashing around in the water fully clothed.  Some of the women even went all the way in wearing their saris (dresses)!

Some things are universal...teenage guys.  These guys were taking pretend romantic, washed up on the beach, pictures of each other.  I'm pretty sure they were pretending anyway...they were sure laughing a lot and were having a hard time posing.  It was fun watching them...and was nice to have someone taking pictures and have it not be of us for once!

The Kochi area has water everywhere...there's even a little town in the area called the Venice of India because they have canals instead of streets.  We took a day tour on the Kerala backwaters.  It was so peaceful and beautiful and was fun to boat on by the local people's houses and see them out doing their daily activities.  

A peaceful view of the Kerala backwaters...

This woman was an Indian tourist on our boat trip.  She wanted a picture with me and I was glad because I wanted a picture with her too.  

Men transporting goods on the backwaters...

This is the type of boat we took our backwater tour on. It is a houseboat, as the back part of the boat has lodging, so you can even stay overnight on the water if you want to, but we were too cheap to do it.  

We had a beautiful, clear day for the tour.  It seemed like it rained so much while we were in Kerala, but it really mostly rained in the late afternoon and evening and all night...so we got some nice travel time.  

Two cute little ladies that we watched making jute...

India's most annoying couple.  It's a well known fact that approximately 50% of all couples are completely annoying to anyone outside of their little couple.  Especially newlyweds.  These two were the epitome of newlywed annoying-ness.  They were Indian tourists from the north.  Marissa and I actually were very entertained by their complete obliviousness to everyone and everything around them.  In their defense they were really nice, and even, at the end of the tour shared some scary Indian candy with us, but they were in another world every other second until they finally, after several hours of being on the tour, acknowledged us when they turned around and handed me that sketchy candy.  

Let me just give you a couple examples of their state of oblivion so you won't just think we were being jerks in being bugged by them...and, just for the record, Marissa was as equally bugged/entertained by them, so it's not just me either.  First of all they didn't listen to the tour guide so they asked questions about things he had just explained and were never back to the boat on time when we got off to tour something.  I'm pretty sure their heads were just filled with "la, la, la" sounds and pictures of colorful hearts dancing around.  They sat at the front of the boat taking 5000 pictures of each other, kissing, leaning their heads on each other, completely blocking our view and any opportunity for Marissa or me to take a decent picture.  And...at one point they started looking through the girl's purse, found what looked like a little hygiene kit from a hotel or something, pulled out a couple of Q-tips, which the guy then used to CLEAN OUT HIS EARS and then proceeded to throw the used Q-tips into the water.  What the H?  That was when Marissa and I couldn't hold it in any longer and began to laugh uncontrollably.  Luckily, with oblivious people, they are too out of it to know you're laughing at them.  

Anyway, I know I took a lot of room explaining all that, but I don't think Marissa and I will ever think of the backwaters tour and not think of that couple.  And, a few days later, we ran into the same couple at the beach and they, off of their romantic group boat ride, came right up to us and were acting like we were all best friends who had bonded on our boat trip and wanted a picture with us.  So weird!  Anyway, I'd like to publicly thank them for entertaining us with their annoyingness.  

This is a picture of jackfruit.  It grows from the trunk of the tree instead of from the branches and it get super huge.  It's kind of slimy but kind of has a decent flavor.

I just thought this was a cool picture of these men sitting in a boat playing chess or checkers or something.  I'm always impressed with people who play chess and checkers because I don't know how to play either.  I guess I could learn but I must not really want to.  

I just love these old Hindustan Ambassador cars they have all over India...I especially love that not much has changed about the body style since the 1950's.  It is cool to see new "old" cars everywhere.  

That particular one was even new enough to be "having mobile charger facility" in it!  

While we were in Fort Kochin I took a cooking class.  I know...such a cliché thing to do.  But I've always wanted to take a cooking class while traveling abroad.  And I love Indian food.  I rarely travel anywhere and stay long enough to do anything but see the main tourist sites, but with a week just in Kerala, I had plenty of time for cooking classes and such.  

This is the lady, Mrs Leelu Roy, I took the cooking class from.  She was a pretty good teacher but she showed us how to make quite a few dishes and, although I was frantically scribbling notes, I wonder if I'd even understand what I wrote now, and would even be able to cook anything she taught us.  I guess I should try.  

As I mentioned before the food in Kerala is kind of like a fusion of the more typical central Indian food mixed with Thai food.  It was good but I think I like the more typical daal, naan, and curry.  

After you learn how to make all the food you get to sit down and eat everything...so that was nice.  

One of the days that we were in Kerala we took a private tour (we learned our lesson from the backwaters tour) to Munnar...a hilly area in Kerala with lots of tea plantations, rubber plantations, and spice farms.  You could actually smell a mix of spices in the air as we drove with our windows down...it was a wonderful smorgasbord of smells.  

Here's a cute little rubber plantation worker who showed us, as well as he could given that he didn't speak English, how they harvest the rubber.  

Munnar, and the whole drive there were just green, green, green...so beautiful.  As you can see though, we had another powerless morning, and my hair (and consequently self-esteem) were less than beautiful.  

We passed lots of waterfalls along the way...

I liked this "Jesus is Savior" rock in the middle of the rushing river...Kerala is so Christian!  So weird after being in the rest of India and only having it be Muslim, Hindu, and Sikh stuff everywhere. 

We stopped along the way to ride an elephant.  I'd ridden them before in Thailand but Marissa only had gotten one turbo elephant ride up to the fort in Jaipur, so we thought we'd try again to have a more natural riding experience...and it was better this time.  Although the other times I've ridden an elephant it has either been up on a kind of chair saddle or down right on the elephant's neck with its ears flapping against my legs (the coolest way to ride if you ever get the chance).  But this time they just had a blanket draped over the elephant and we just straddled it like a horse.  I was on the back and let me tell you...the back of an elephant is wide...super wide.  I thought for sure my hips were going to pop right out of their sockets.  Fortunately they didn't, but it wasn't the most comfortable elephant ride I've ever been on.  

I thought this was a cool shot...I like the lighting.  

If you look closely, I'm kind of smiling, kind of wincing in pain, and mostly just worried about how I knew I wouldn't like the picture because I was wearing a hat.

Our view...did you know that elephants have really dark, coarse, pokey hair on their heads?  See, reading my long posts are worthwhile...that may come up in conversation some day and then you'll be all smart about elephant heads.  

We passed yet another waterfall on the way to Munnar...water water everywhere...

and another.

We ate passionfruit picked fresh.  It was the best passionfruit I've ever eaten...passionfruit is a little snot-like in texture but has an amazing flavor.  

We stopped at a spice farm and got to see these guys working with all the spice plants...vanilla, cinnamon, nutmeg, pepper...you name it, they had it there.  It was really interesting to see the different parts of the plants that spices come from.  

And then we finally got to Munnar where we got to visit the tea plantations.  It was so beautiful...it was getting misty and rainy when we got there which made it kind of hard to get good pictures but made me less mad about not being able to do my hair that morning...since it would have gotten messed up anyway.  

Here are a bunch of women harvesting tea leaves. 

They just trim the leaves with big shears like you would prune a bush with.  

It was just so beautiful and green.  At the end of the tea tour they offer you a sample of their tea.  We said no thanks and walked along our way.  A friendly Indian tourist saw us refusing the tea and stopped us to inform us that the tea was free...and was delicious.  We then had to explain that we didn't drink tea (not the first time we had to do this in India) and the Indian tourist looked at us like we were crazy people from another planet.  Indians drink tea all day and all night so I'm sure it's super weird to them to find someone who doesn't!

It got rainier and colder as the day went on...

and the monkeys had to snuggle to get warm.  

We stopped at the market before leaving Munnar.  

Here's a guy selling that nasty betel nut and leaves that all the men chew and spit everywhere.  Seriously, something I don't miss about India!

A friendly little vegetable vendor...

We headed back to Fort Kochi, enjoying the beautiful views along the way as well as the Indian Bollywood music our driver had blaring from the radio.  The drive just wouldn't have been complete without the music (no sarcasm intended).  

The long and winding road back...

We stopped at a viewpoint for a picture and this man came running up to me saying "one picture? one picture?" as he threw, practically literally, his toddler granddaughter into my arms.  So, I smiled and just decided to stop worrying about all the ugly pictures there are of me somewhere on SD cards in India.  I guess with over a billion Indians in the world, I'm very unlikely to ever run into any of those who have ugly pictures of me ever again.  And...who knows, maybe if I do, I'll look better next time and they can get a new picture of me. That would be nice.  

One last beautiful view...

and a stop at a cathedral in an area where it rains so much that even Jesus needs an umbrella!

I'm glad I took the blue shirt in the picture above to India because it reminds me of an Indian punjabi.  And I looked at the tag, and it said "made in India"  So it was made in India, I bought it at Maurices, and then I wore it back to India...so it made full circle I guess!  

Back in Fort Kochi for one last rainy day.  I love the huge trees in the background...

and that people play soccer everywhere...all day...pretty much in the whole world minus the United States.  

We saw an Indian soap opera being filmed...it seemed just like ours...super dramatic.  The scene we saw being filmed was an old guy in a wheelchair at the end of the pier.  Not sure if he was suicidal or professing his love to a 20 year old or something, but there was definitely drama in the air.  

Then we went to a museum at a Catholic monastery where the Indian version of Ben Stiller gave us a tour of the place.  He was actually working at the ticket booth but as soon as we bought our tickets and headed inside we found him back at our side.  I guess he wanted to give us a VIP tour.  It was so funny...he truly looked so much like Ben Stiller...just in Indian form.  And he was smiling and snapping and winking all over the place as he gave us our tour.  It was way too funny and it took all our willpower for us to not burst out laughing.  

Just like in parts of Africa straight dudes hold hands with their guy friends...I just had to get a picture because it's so weird to me.  I just can't imagine one of my brothers walking along a boardwalk holding hands with one of their friends.  

They have all these weird animal garbage cans that say "use me" all along the beach...but, judging by the litter everywhere, they don't get used.  I'm pretty sure Australia donated them to India because there were Kangaroos, and Koalas and other weird marsupial type animals.  They painted on the Hindu red dot though...probably to be culturally sensitive?

Fort Kochi is one of the only places in the world where they still fish in this ancient Chinese way of fishing with big nets that they lower into the water.  This way of fishing was introduced to the Indians in Kerala in the 1400's by a Chineese explorer.  So, I guess it must be a somewhat profitable way of fishing if it has been around for that long!

Oh, and I forgot to mention...besides Christians, Kerala is also full of Communists...I'm sure there are even a lot of Christian Communists.  So there are a lot of Commie political signs.  It's kind of weird because India is a republic like the United States is, but within that system they have Communist politicians who run for office.  Weird.  

But I guess when you're away from your home country lots of things seem weird...like the fact that there is a separate male and female line to buy a ticket for the ferry.  

You can see the two lines here...Gents and Ladies.  

There was a Christian book-ship docked at Fort Kochi while we were there.  It was a huge old cruise ship that moves around the world bringing a big, cheaply priced bookstore, to people in areas where books are not so cheap or easy to come by.  It was pretty interesting.  We bought a copy of War and Peace for a friend we made in Fort Kochi who loved to read and specifically wanted to read that book (why, I don't know).  He got choked up when we gave it to him...so, the book-ship visit was definitely worth it...for 3 bucks we made a man's day and, they had soft-serve chocolate ice cream and Americanish brownies for sale on board so we made our own day as well!  (Please disregard the shiny face...it was hot, and humid...super humid!)

We visited the beautiful beach one last time and said goodbye to Kerala.  

And now I'm saying goodbye to you too.  If you survived this post, leave me a comment as evidence! 

Peace, 

Becca