Pictures on line!

Okay, some pictures have been posted on Shutterfly if you are interested.

www.kimberandsarahtriptolondon.shutterfly.com

Enjoy!

Paris Pictures

Yes, we were really in Paris! Yes, the Eiffel Tower is amazing! Yes, it was raining but it didn't matter - we were in PARIS!


This is the front door of the Justice Building. Kimber and I happened upon this wonderful building while looking for something else! The police cars and TV vans in front were a dead giveaway that something important either was happening or had just happened inside.


Notre Dame Cathedral. This magnificent church takes your breath away. Because Luke had taken an architecture class at K State before I left, he told me all the things to look for and appreciate. He was right.


Imagine how beautiful this window would be if the sun had been shining.


Kimber, the world traveler, had Euros and pounds (which we referred to as "English money") in her very chic change purse. I know, I know, it looks like a plastic baggie, but it was so much more. I loved it when we would be getting ready to pay for something (a chocolate crepe, perhaps?) and she would say "Oh, I've got money" and out would come the plastic baggie, er, I mean, coin purse!

Just a Few Pictures

This is Priya loaded up with all the goodies we brought: Moon Pies, jams, jellies, Reeses Peanut Butter Cups, Peanut M and M's, sunflower seed cookies, etc. etc. What is funny about this is that Chet asked Priya to ask me to bring PeanutBUTTER M and M's, not Peanut M and M's, which they have in England. The girls couldn't understand why I brought candy from the US that they could buy in the UK. Guess you'll have to ask Priya!



Kimber and I are clearly having a great time on our London tour. The man in the background will never be the same....



I was excited to see that Aunt Ida now has a legitimate job.

YIPPPPEEEEE!!!!! YAHOOOOOOOOO!!!!!

My camera! She's home! (I consider my camera a girl, don't you?) At any rate, my camera arrived yesterday and I looked at all the pictures last night. As you may remember, Kimber's camera was funky sometimes so she would use mine - that's why its disappearance was bad on several levels. So, many of the pictures were a surprise to me which was fun.

Tonight, while CB is at the golf course, I will do my best to add photos. There are some great ones and proof that I did, in fact, go to Paris and see the Eiffel Tower!

Stay tuned!

Our Trip Home

On our last night at Diane's, Kimber and I packed our suitcases which is always a treat. Where did all this stuff come from? We debated wearing several layers of clothes so our bags wouldn't be overweight. Kimber kept stuffing her carry on bag until it was about to burst! I loaded my teapots (from 4 years ago) into my carry on bag, packed several others in my luggage and just crammed everything else in.

During the early morning hours before Kimber and I were to fly home, I got a bit of a stomach upset and was up and down several times visiting the loo and wondering how I was going to make it all the way home. Home, of course, being a gazillion miles away...

On the way to the airport, Diane stopped at a Sainsbury grocery store so I could buy some Imodium-AD (is this too much information? Well, there could be a whole lot more!). Whoever invented that stuff needs to be nominated for sainthood. Seriously. Sainthood.

We arrived at Heathrow in plenty of time to get checked in, go through immigration and customs and do some duty free shopping. Duty free shopping: where you are led to believe that you are saving a ton of money and start to wonder if you have purchased enough crap to drag home. Of course I bought stuff...who knows when I may need Walker's Shortbread? (Note: at the Dillons store in Manhattan last Saturday, I noticed that they have Walker's Shortbread. Yep. The EXACT same stuff I lugged home from England. Geez.)

Kimber and I sat and talked about the trip. Being the professional writer that she is, Kimber took notes so we wouldn't forget all the wonderful experiences we had.

Pretty soon it was time to board the plane and we got settled in for the trip home. By this time, I was feeling much better and we were both looking forward to relaxing for the next 8 hours or so.

As I sit here, nearly 2 weeks later, I can't think of anything unusual that happened on the flight so I guess that's good! The movies and television shows were the same so that was kind of boring. And, as you know, I didn't have any pictures to look at!

I did have a battenburg cake in my carry on. The plane was in the air about 3 minutes before we had it open and were noshing. A battenburg cake is a sponge cake that is pink and white and it is covered with almond paste - like fondant. It is wonderful. I still have 2 in my freezer.

The guy in front of Kimber didn't know that he could change the channel on the TV screen in front of him so he watched the flight path the ENTIRE TRIP. I could see between the seats that that is what he was watching. With about 15 minutes to go, his travel companion showed him how to change the channel...that guy did some major channel surfing during the rest of the flight!

When we arrived in Chicago, it was a confusing mess. We went through Immigration and Customs again. Kimber noted that no one called her "Luv" like they did in England. And, I noticed that no one said "Welcom home" like they have on previous trips. Maybe my Immigration guy was not glad to have me home. I don't know. We got our luggage claimed and dropped off - no easy task, then took off for our terminal. When we arrived there, we discovered that we had to go through security again.

Going through security is not a problem unless EVERYONE in the entire airport is waiting to go through the same security line as us AND Kimber's plane leaves in less than an hour.

While I stood in line, Kimber approached one of the airport workers who looked at her boarding pass and told her to get to the front of the line. She and I looked at each other, said "Bye" and off she went. A rather anticlimatic farewell to what had been an amazing trip together.

I got through security and wandered along to my gate. When I got there, I looked up and there was Kimber! Her flight was delayed for a couple of hours so she went to my gate to meet me. Also, she needed to use my cell phone since hers was dead and the charger was at Massi's house! Kimber called home and reported her delay. Then, I discovered my flight was delayed as well due to bad weather in and around Kansas City.

I called Luke and Curtis and was told that Wamego was having torrential rains and those rains were headed east...east towards Kansas City.

Kimber and I were finally able to have a proper good-bye. We hugged with the promise that we would see each other again soon and would, most definitely, do a trip like this again sometime.

As I was waiting on my flight, I asked a couple of guys about the Big 12 shake up. I had no idea what had happened, but before I left I knew that there was something in the works. I got an earfull!

The flight to Kansas City was perfect. I don't know who the pilot was, but it was not rough and we did not experience any bad weather at all. In fact, when we landed in Kansas City there was a beautiful rainbow. I was going to take a picture of it, but....

I got my luggage, Curtis slowed down long enough for me to throw it in and off we went, headed west. I had been gone 10 days, and I was glad to be home.

Kimber arrived home safe and sound as well.

My friend and I shared the trip of a lifetime. Not only did we reconnect and renew our friendship, but we made new friends and learned something every, single day. We celebrated diversity, acceptance, flexibility, laughter and love. It was a magnificent way to spend 10 days.

Don't Give Up Yet!

Good news! Good news! If you've seen "Wicked", feel free to sing along....

Diane called yesterday from Oxford and those silly car rental people actually LOOKED for my camera and they found it! WA-HOOOOO!! Diane is sending it to me today so as soon as I get it, I'll start posting pictures. It will be like going on the trip all over again! Oh yes, won't that be fun?

Keep checking back for trip pictures! This will be the trip that never ends!

Oxford? I LOVE OXFORD!!!!

Sooooooo, after a bit of a lie in and a cup of tea with a bite of toast, Diane delivered Kimber and I to Oxford. She dropped us off where we could board the 2 story, open top bus and take a tour of the city.

We must have been there at the right time for exams because we saw numerous students in full regalia, pedalling their bikes on their way to, or from, a test. It was interesting to see young people dressed in flowing black robes, carrying their mortor boards, just to sit for an exam.

The day was cool and the sun played peek a boo with us. When the sun was shining, it was so warm and made both of us sleepy.

We stopped at the Oxford Castle but didn't go in. The Oxford Castle is a new, well, not new exactly, but recently opened to the public attraction in Oxford. It was interesting, but Kimber and I were feeling a bit cheap and decided not to pay to go in. We'll do that the next time!

We also walked through the World War II memorial garden which was explosive with color. On our way to the memorial garden, Kimber suggested that we get a pastry (I can not remember what it's called. Sorry!) that was filled with chicken and aspargus. We ate it in the garden and enjoyed the sunshine.

Christ College (site of the dining room in the Harry Potter movies) was having some work done so the entrance was on the side which was kind of confusing. Again, we decided not to pay to see a room - after all, we could watch a Harry Potter movie and see it!

Naturally, we bought the required Oxford University t-shirts. An international incident was barely escaped when a rude tourist (NOT British) pushed in front of Kimber at the check out. Kimber used her "mommy voice" and everything.

While we were shopping, Diane called (I had her cell phone) and said that Priya had called the house and left a number for me to call. I did, indeed, call her and we had a lovely visit. I even got a chance to talk to Chet. He seems quite nice. It sounds like their marriage is off to a great start. They went to the Dominican Republic for their honeymoon.

When Diane arrived to pick us up, we were both ready for a nap. But instead, we packed our bags (OH MY GOD. WHERE DID ALL THIS CRAP COME FROM? SERIOUSLY. WHAT WHAT I THINKING?) while Diane cooked supper.

Supper. Supper was a near religious experience. We had steaks and potatoes that were like scalloped potatoes on crack - they were that good. But dessert, dessert put the whole thing over the top. We had Eton Mess which is double whipped cream with strawberries served over pieces of meringue. It was amazing. Kimber made her food happy noise a lot. A. Lot.

Our last day in England had come to a close.

Monday in Bladon

As I was unpacking the alarm clock that had served us so well in London, I must have hit a button that caused it to jump ahead an hour. We told Diane that we'd be up and around (and ready for a full English breakfast!) by 10. We woke up and stayed in bed howling with laughter. Now, a week later, I can not for the life of me remember what was so funny, but I do remember that we were laughing so hard we were crying and we woke Diane! Now, that took some doing because her house is BIG and our room was not that close to hers!

Anyway.....after we laughed our heads off, we noticed the time - about 10 minutes to 10 - so we got dressed and headed to the kitchen where we expected to find Diane slaving over a hot stove. But, what we found was that it was not even 9:00 yet! I put on the kettle (since I now remembered the right way to do it) and pretty soon Diane came down to start breakfast.

Oh, how we love English breakfast! Fried eggs (or scrambled if you are Kimber), bacon, sausage, fried tomatoes, beans, and fried bread. I LOVE fried bread. There, I said it and I am not ashamed. I could eat fried bread every day at every meal. But, only if Diane is there to cook it for me.

After breakfast, we went to Bladon. I had a bouquet of sunflowers to put under Dad's bush. I've done this every trip since 2002, so I figure the groundskeeper of the cemetary is wondering why, every 2 years or so, there are sunflowers under that silly bush. The top photo is a perfect photo of "our" bench and "Dad's" bush.

It was a beautiful day and Sir Winston's grave was decorated by the Dutch ambassador in honor of the Dutch Resistance. There is a school right next to the cemetary and the children were outside and we could hear their laughter which made me smile.

So, I honored my dad and silently thanked him for instilling in me a curious nature and an appreciation of diversity - both traits that served me well during the previous week. Of course, I shed a tear or two and a hug or two with Diane and Kimber.

We spent some time in the church because although the sun was shining, the temperature was a bit cool. We left as a tour bus arrived. Those silly American tourists, pushing and shoving for a picture with the church in the background, walking all across the graves, talking in loud voices. It was time for us to move on.

Diane dropped us at the Blenheim Palace (bottom photo) gate and as we walked towards the palace, Kimber stopped frequently to admire the view and take pictures of the pristine grounds. We could have walked barefoot and probably would have if it weren't so stinkin' cold.

We toured the palace which was fun; I never get tired of wandering around Blenheim. There were some new exhibits which were interesting. After the tour, I was waiting outside for Kimber who was in the bookstore. A man walked by me who took my breath away, he looked just like my dad. So much so, that I found myself staring at him. I saw Kimber through the bookstore window and she was frantically motioning for me to come in. I went in and she said to me "Do you see that man? He looks just like your dad!"

When I went back outside, the man had been joined by his wife. I approached them and asked if they spoke English. In very British accents they said "Yes". So I told the gentleman that he looked like my dad. He said he was glad to have a twin in the United States. I told him that my dad had passed away several years ago - and I had to wipe tears off my cheeks. He very kindly touched my arm and said "I hope that seeing me has brightened your day." Both he and his wife were very kind and didn't seem bothered at all by the crazy American lady.

After spending the afternoon at Blenheim, Diane came to pick us up. We went out for fish and chips and mushy peas then back to Diane's. We had scones with clotted cream for dessert and I discovered that I could eat my weight in scones with raspberry jelly and clotted cream. In England they have something called double whipping cream or something like that which puts our "heavy whipping cream" to shame. To. Shame.

It stays light so late that time gets away from you. Before you know it, it's 10:30 or 11 o'clock but the light outside makes you think it's much earlier.

Tuesday is Oxford! One of my favorite places in the world.

oh, oh, oh, oh....Go Back and Look

Go back and look at some of the previous entries. Kimber has added photos. They are wonderful and will help you picture some of what we saw.

However, the picture of me? In the purple kit? Yep, I look like an Oompaloompa. Except they were blue.

But, without pictures and a mirror, I felt like Cinderella!

Something I Forgot but Needs to be Said.

At the end of the sanji on Friday, the last one at Priya's house, I wanted to say a few words (my goodness, don't I sound like my dad?). I asked Crazy Uncle Bo Bo to translate for me because I wanted to make sure that everyone understood what I was saying.

How hard could it be to express my gratitude for being allowed to share in this wonderful event; for being accepted as a member of the family; for trying to return the feeling of love that Kimber and I had felt all week? Well, turns out it was pretty hard.

I started crying (I know, I know, no surprise there) when I asked Uncle Bo Bo for help. He walked with me into the living room which was packed with women and the men came in from the garden. Bo Bo announced that I wanted to say something, and then I really started to cry and I could barely speak. So, Uncle Bo Bo said "What she is trying to say is thank you for everything."

There was so much on my mind and in my heart that night: the lessons we had learned, the kindness and patience that had been shown to us, the unconditional love and acceptance that everyone expressed to us, the communication that took place which transcended any barrier of language or age.

Uncle Bo Bo helped Kimber and I say thank you: Coop, Coop Ahbar. (Thank you very, very much.)

Laughter, tears, singing, food. It was a great night all around.

Tootle 'round the Cotswolds

After we left the wonderment that was Priya and Chet's wedding, we headed to Diane's house in Woodstock. Once we arrived and carried in all of our luggage (thank you, Kimba, for carrying mine up the stairs!), Diane put the kettle on and we had a cup of tea. We also were able to enjoy the take away plates which Kimber scored for us at the wedding. She balanced them on her lap during the trip and didn't spill a drop.

Unfortunately, I had forgotten exactly how to make a cuppa and Diane had to give me a refresher course. I'll enlighten all of you: heat the kettle to boiling, pour water into the cup/mug to heat it up, heat the kettle to boiling again, dump out the water in the cup/mug, and put your tea bag in. Then, pour boiling water over the tea bag and let steep for just a bit - not too long, remove the tea bag and add milk and sugar. Enjoy!

The Brits have it right - a cup of tea does solve a myraid of troubles.

Once we had our tea and felt a bit settled down, Diane took us for one of her famous tootles in the Cotswolds. You've never tootled the Cotswolds until you've tootled them with Diane.

But, here's the problem....I fell asleep in the back seat so although I was tootling along with Kimber and Diane, I don't have anything to say about it! Kimber does and certainly she will wax eloquent about the experience. Hopefully, she'll be able to post some pictures.

I do know that the colors were brilliant; everything was so green and the roses were spectacular. It stays light for a long time so we were out until nearly 10:00 p.m.

The front seat girls woke me up while on the way back to Diane's. It was about this time that my camera snuck away from me and went missing some where in the rental car.

Upon arrival at Diane's, she put on the kettle and popped a couple of pizzas in the oven. After our pizza fix, Kimber and I were ready for bed.

The Cotswolds. It's good to be home.

Chet and Priya

Love Is Immortal...

At long last, we had reached the wedding day -- an experience unlike anything we've ever known. By comparison, Hindu weddings make Western weddings look like brief, bland, boring facsimiles of a real wedding -- like a quick trip through a drive-through Vegas wedding chapel, without the Elvis impersonator!

How to describe the experience? We'd been warned that the entire day is best summed up as "organized chaos." To that I would only add, "visually rich, delightful organized chaos."

Forget your idea of a solemn affair where the congregation looks on, passive and silent.

Instead, imagine a mash-up of Bollywood musical, Hollywood red carpet, Chinese opera, three-ring circus, family reunion, and WWF wrestling -- you're now getting a pretty good idea of the overall ambience. It is a day infused with noise, happy chattering voices, thudding drums, whoops of joy, bowls of fire and blaring smoke alarms -- just amazing sensory overload. Oh yes, and a couple is joining their lives somewhere in the thick of all the that, too!

The day began early -- we were up and ready to drive to the wedding venue with our Indian wedding clothes in hand by 7:30 a.m. Kavita's good friend Anj was kind enough to give us a lift in her Smart Car (as tiny as a clown car, but amazingly roomy inside). We zipped over to the venue and joined a crush of cousins and aunties all getting dressed in the Ladies room. A note about wedding finery: This is a luscious parade of fabric and intricate hairdos and bling. We were so fortunate to be able to borrow lovely, lovely clothes from Priya's family, with the aid of our personal stylist, Kavita! Sarah rocked the house in a gorgeous cornflower blue sari with a fuschia-colored trim. I felt like queen for the day in an amazing turquoise satin suit with ornate champagne-colored trim -- a fitted jacket that fastened in the front with hooks and eyes and a long, sweeping skirt that was gored for maximum skirt swirl. Getting ready in a group took us back to college days of dressing up for formal dances with dormitory friends -- it adds to the shared excitement.

Once dressed, Sarah's friend Diane Ellis showed up, as if on cue. Sarah and Diane were artfully arranged in their saris (safety pins are an Indian girl's best friend) and we all found our seats in the main room -- a large conference center-sized space with a red carpet running down the middle aisle. A massive golden arch anchored one end; the aisle was studded with pillars topped with golden Ganeshes. Before us, the wedding altar was set up on the raised stage -- gilded pillars held the Mandap, a wedding canopy where the couple would sit, facing each other. To either side was seating for immediate family.

The ceremony actually began a week earlier, with ceremonies and singing in the bride's and groom's homes, offering prayers to Shri Ganesh to remove any obstacles and bless the union. On this day, the actual Hindu Vedic ceremony was conducted in ancient Sanskrit by a Mahraj, a Hindu priest. Things got rolling when word filtered through the crowd that the groom was arriving. Priya's mother, sisters and cousins assembled before the stage, with Kavita balancing a beaded ornament atop her head (the coconut?) Suddenly, the sound of drums rumbled through the hall, a primitive, inviting beat. Everyone pushed outside to find the groom, Chet, emerging from a car, where he was greeted like a Bollywood celebrity. Flashbulbs popped like field artillery as he was met by Priya's sisters, who led him back into the hall. There, everyone paused before the great golden arch -- just a crush of family and guests all craning to see. The drums were beating frenetically as Priya's sisters and cousins began dancing and clapping and whooping, in a loud, dramatic welcome. Soon, the women in Chet's family began to answer their call, a raucous throwdown of happy noise. Finally, Kanchan (MOB) formally greeted the groom, bestowing her blessings. Only then did they let him pass through the archway and slowly work his way down the aisle, along with the crowd, which was talking away as if at some kind of gigantic social hour.

No somber organ music. No quiet processional. This was a decidedly joyful noise.

Then, just as Chet and his family began to ascend the stage, it seemed that a fight was breaking out. Truly! It was a real rugby scrum, unfolding before our eyes, as the Visavadia sisters -- with their elegant coifs and gorgeous dress -- began scrambling in earnest to steal Chet's shoes! If successful, we were told, then Priya would rule their household. If not, then Chet would be the dominant person in their relationship. So there was a bit on the line!

It was a crazy, screaming scene -- a wriggling ball of humanity, true wedding dogpile, down-and-dirty schoolyard scuffle, with legs and elbows flying and people tumbling off the stage steps. For a moment, I thought that fists might fly! But it was all in laughter and good fun.

(Note: Don't get in the way of those Visavadia girls, I'm just sayin'!)

Once on stage, Chet sat beneath the canopy, with his family behind him. All the while, the priest was on stage, engrossed in preparatory rituals with the bride's parents. You really couldn't see or hear what he was doing, as the crowd noise and wedding photographers made it next-to-impossible. The conclusion of these preparatory tasks signified that they were ready to give their daughter away and that Chet was ready to take her as his wife.

Then, Chet's family stood, unfolding an ornate, white blanket and holding it up in front of Chet, who hadn't seen Priya all week. It seems that he was not meant to see the bride until she was seated across from him -- talk about building the suspense!

As if on cue, Priya's cousins and aunties came out to line the central aisle, tossing flower petals as Priya glided past, escorted by her oldest maternal uncle. Her sari was just jaw-dropping -- a deep green fabric with intricate and effusive beadwork. Her hands bore elaborate mendhi designs, her makeup was flawless. She was utterly regal -- inhabiting a serene place somewhere far beyond beautiful.

She, too, ascended the stage, taking her place in a chair directly across from Chet. Only then, did the priest cue his family to drop the satin blanket that had been blocking his view. Talk about theatrical build-up! (Diane joked that she was a little disappointed that they hadn't also produced a rabbit!)

The couple exchanged huge garlands of red and white flowers fashioned into massive necklaces, then Priya's parents symbolically place her hands into Chet's, effectively giving her away. Next, Chet's scarf/shawl was tied to Priya's sari -- the knot symbolizing wedlock.

But the show was just beginning! Next, it was time for a little fire!

The Hindu priest kneeled to light a (okay, it wasn't small!) fire, symbolic of Lord Vishnu, offering prayers seeking illumination of mind, knowledge and happiness. The rest of the ceremony would be conducted around this fire, which was considered a divine witness.

Chet and Priya then walked four times around the fire, stopping on each circuit to touch a stone in their path with their right foot, taking from the stone its strength and solidity into their marriage. Chet led the first three rounds (symbolizing attainment of enlightenment, prosperity and love), while Priya led the final round (representing attainment of liberation).

At some point, a blaring smoke detector went off, adding to the overall din. But it was quickly attended to by one of Priya's uncles, who all worked together like a well-oiled piece of machinery to see this day go off without a hitch...

Next, the couple took seven symbolic steps together, symbolizing their journey through life together. They also vowed to each other: nourishment, strength, prosperity, knowledge, family, harmony and friendship. Then, Chet gingerly anointed the center of Priya's forehead with red vermillion powder (sindoor) and placed a necklace traditionally worn by married women as a gesture of his everlasting esteem and respect.

Now, the entire time these loving rituals are being carried out, is the audience quietly looking on? No way! They're chatting up a storm, catching up with old friends, murmuring funny stories and checking out the sari two rows over, jumping up and down and running to the stage to catch candid photos, setting up tables before the stage with boxes to accept cash wedding gifts (complete with volunteers who recorded the offerings right there and then in a large ledger), and generally having a terrific time. In essence, the Wedding Party had started long before the wedding was over.
At one point, Priya's adorable grandfather wandered up, took our hands, eyes shining, and firmly announced: "Love is Immortal!" No kidding. You've got that one right, grandpa!
This was so far from a staid Western wedding. In fact, in exasperation, the priest finally took the microphone and firmly asked the audience to put a lid on it. Or words to that effect. Where we sat, a young boy happily amused himself by tossing a paper airplane around. Organized chaos at its finest!

On stage, Chet and Priya were breaking their wedding fast by feeding each other an Indian sweet, symbolic of their first meal together as a married couple. In the audience, I would be surprised if a majority of the guests could see it happen. The entire time, the ceremony was being recorded by a crowd of no less than three professional photographers, as well as a videographer. Today was truly all about the Kodak moment!

As women from the bride's and groom's families whispered religious blessings into Priya's ear to guide her into married life, you couldn't help but wonder if she could even hear them. But there were clearly no hard feelings. This is what everyone had come to expect at a wedding. No problem.

The Mahraj ended the ceremony by blessing the couple. Already, people were queueing up for the buffet luncheon!

We only knew the ceremony had concluded when someone announced that family photos would begin. Before we had changed clothes, we were invited up on stage for a photograph with the happy couple -- a real privilege! 

After quick goodbyes, we changed clothes and loaded our (considerable) luggage into a Ford Fiesta that Diane had rented to haul us to The Cotswolds. On our way out the door, the wonderful uncles insisted that we grab some take-away (carryout) plates of the catered wedding luncheon for our trip -- the food was, naturally, magnificent.

It was hard to leave these friendly faces that we had grown to adore in such a short time. So many emotions.
We drove away saturated with lovely sounds and images, heads swimming with the colors of the day, feeling privileged, indeed, to have been granted the access and education we had enjoyed, and destined for a setting that couldn't be more different than the one we had just witnessed...

 

Wedding, Part 2

After we were dressed, we went into this giant hall that had a stage at one end. It might have been the size of a basketball court, but I'm not sure. Chairs were in rows with an aisle down the center. On the stage was a mandap (I think that's what it was called) which is a covering under which the families sat. On either side were 20 or so family members who sat in rows of chairs. The altar was in the front center where the priest knelt for much of the ceremony.

The center aisle ended about 10 feet from the stage and in that area were the wedding photographers and anyone else who wanted to take photos. The photographers stood on step ladders so they could get the perfect picture.

The wedding was to start at 10:00 a.m. and around that time there was some excitement in the back of the hall. We were told to head back there because the groom was arriving. We went outside and met his car. When I say "we", I mean about 150 people. The car was surrounded and people were clapping and yelling.

We went back in and about 10 minutes or so later these drums started pounding. The groom was trying to come into the hall but Priya's sisters and other young women (so, NOT Kimber and I) were preventing him from entering. There was much yelling, laughter and dancing at the back door. We were told that Priya's mother would greet the groom at the door, but I didn't see if that happened.

The groom, who looked like Aladdin when he was a prince (if you don't know what I mean, go rent the animated version from 20 years ago...), started down the aisle and the girls continued to make it hard for him to move. I believe some members of his family were with him. Finally, he made it to the stage, and the craziness hit a peak - one of several. Here's why: the tradition is that the bride's friends are to try to steal the groom's shoes. This has something to do with who will be the dominate person in the marriage. (Don't you think it would just be easier to explain that a happy wife equals a happy life be done with it?) When Chet (the groom) took off his shoes to walk to the altar, there was a virtual rugby scrum of women trying to snatch the shoes away from Chet's poor best man who was trying to protect them.

There were beautifully dressed girls diving, that's right DIVING, into the fray trying to get those silly shoes. It went on for about a minute then the best man was able to slither out with shoes in hand. The girls were not to be deterred. They just waited for their next opportunity.

When Chet sat down, his parents and sister held a decorated shawl up in front of him so he and Priya could not see each other until they were sitting side by side. Talk about anticipation!

In a bit, Priya came down the aisle escorted by her 7 uncles. Each uncle walked her a short ways towards the stage and the oldest uncle walked her up the steps and onto the altar. The shawl was lowered and Priya and Chet saw each other for the first time in a week.

The ceremony started, done mostly in sanskrit which no one other than the priest understands. What was interesting to the westerners there is that there is a complete disconnect between what was happening on the stage and what was going on in the rest of the hall. People were wandering around chatting, lining up for the meal, walking to the front and taking photos. It was indeed "organized chaos".

At every important point in the service, the parties would pose for the photographers.

Things that made us laugh: when the fire was lit on stage as part of the ceremony, the smoke alarms went off; another rugby scrum at one side of the stage starring Neya (Priya's sister) who was going to get those shoes if it killed her.

We got loads of pictures which will be posted soon.

After the wedding, there were many, many photos taken of various guests with the couple and their families up on stage under the mandap. Kimber, Diane and I were lucky enough to be summoned for a picture, so I got to meet Chet and his mother. That was the only time we had a chance to talk to Priya and Chet.

We hung around talking to all our new friends/family then decided to head on to Oxford. Kimber and I changed and said brief goodbyes then went in search of our luggage. On Friday, Dipak said that he wanted our bags ready to be loaded into a rented van to be delivered to the wedding venue Saturday afternoon. With all the people and things needing to be transported to the venue, having our bags out of the way would be very helpful.

No one wanted to tell us where our bags were so we could stay longer - which was a nice feeling. We did, however, find them got them loaded in Diane's car and went to the kitchen to plead for take away food. Kimber worked her magic because she came to the car with 3 plates of wonderful Indian food. She balanced them on her lap until we arrived at Diane's house in Woodstock then we tucked in.

After a cup of tea and dragging our suitcases upstairs, we went for a tootle round the Cotswolds. I took my turn in the back seat of the car since I have tootled in the Cotswolds before and Kimber has not.

The activities of the last 2 days caught up with me and I fell asleep in the backseat. This is important because I had my camera in my hand.

Kimber will write about everything she saw and photographed. I guess she made her "happy noise" during most of tootle. Her happy noise is a sort of hummmmmm along with her eyes rolling or closing. It's quite a thing to see.

When we got back to Diane's, we all jumped out of the car and went inside to put the kettle on.

The next morning, Diane had to return the car (it was a rental). While she was gone, I was looking for my camera and couldn't find it. Yep, I left it in the rental car. When we finally determined that that's where it was and called the rental place, we were told that the car had been rented out. Diane was told that they would look for it, but we didn't hear anything from the company. So, my camera with its 300+ photos is lost. If whoever has it somehow finds this blog, I have the battery charger and cables to download the photos to a computer with me, so email me and I'll send them to you. No sense having a camera you can't recharge!

Fortunately, Kimber took a lot of pictures and will send them to me.

It stayed so light for so long in Oxford. Even at 10 p.m. it was still light outside. It didn't seem late when it really was.

Kimber and I both went to sleep listening to the wonderful sounds (or lack thereof) that is Campsfield Farm.

We're home, but keep reading....

Just so you know, Kimber and I both arrived home yesterday (Wednesday, June 16) but there is much yet to tell about the trip. Pretend we aren't really home, but still abroad writing about all of our experiences.



Sunday, June 13, was Priya's wedding day. Kimber has promised to write about it because she uses words like a painter uses colors and that's exactly what is needed. But, here is a brief overview.



Priya's dad told us yesterday that a Hindu wedding was "organized chaos". I didn't understand what he meant, but I do now! There were people going in every direction and doing a million different things, but somehow it all worked together. Everywhere you looked something was happening.



We both wore western clothes to the wedding venue, There I was dressed in my sari. It was a beautiful blue color and I felt very pretty and Cinderella like. Kimber wore a satin suit which consisted of a long skirt with beautiful embroidery and a long satin jacket. We are so grateful to the aunties and sisters in law who loaned clothes for us to wear during the week.



While I was being dressed (and putting on a sari is NOT a one woman job. It takes several sets of hands and many, many safety pins!), Diane arrived with sari in hand. One of the aunties kindly dressed her as well. We got to sit on the second or third row right on the aisle so we had a good view of the stage.

Kimber took a lot of pictures which she has posted on facebook and which I will have her post here.

Because I want to get this up and I'm about to fall asleep, I'm going to go ahead and post this incomplete wedding description. More tomorrow.....

Saanji Night Fever

The week before an Indian wedding is all about build-up to the main event -- nights of singing and laughing and chanting and eating that seems to whir faster and faster, each night adding to the thrum of anticipation. The momentum reaches a screaming peak on Saturday night with the Big One -- the largest Saanji of the wedding week.
The Visavadia family had secured a school auditorium/cafeteria for the FOUR HUNDRED guests who were expected to join them for the night's festivities -- a mixture of emotional family rituals, musical performances, feasting and traditional Indian dancing.
But before Saturday night could commence, we had a morning of wedding preparations at the bride's home. We rose early and dressed in our new punjabis feeling every inch the overage (overweight) Cinderellas that we yearned to be! (Quite by accident, we realized that we had bought punjabi that represented our university colors -- purple for K-State and green and gold for the University of Oregon.) We arrived at the family home to find the Hindu priest busily preparing an altar on the sunlit floor -- unwrapping and arranging everything whilst blessing things along the way. The ceremony was all about honoring Lord Ganesh, the remover of obstacles who is also known for making people feel welcome. His image is found throughout the Visavadia home -- no surprise, we felt enormously, warmly welcomed -- including an intriguing depiction of a happy gathering of Ganeshes playing, what else, cricket!
In time, Kanchan (mother of the bride) joined in the work, walking through the home with purifying incense and later, a bowl of fire. Dipak and Kanchan knelt with the priest and went through the gentle rituals while close friends and family sat back and quietly observed, coming and going for a steaming mug of Indian tea and light breakfast. Priya looked like a princess in a sparkling pink sari, beaming serenely throughout the priest's soft murmurings. Later, she would change into a soft, floral sari. The women clustered about her for yet another ritual -- each woman would approach her, dab a finger in this or that powder and dot her arm, then rub a bit of turmeric into her arm, tossing a bit of rice over her head, then bestowing a blessing -- reaching out to touch each side of her head, then placing your hands against the side of your own head, knuckles down, and pushing in, sharp and hard. The idea, we later learned, was to make your knuckles crack loudly -- the louder the knuckle crack, the more you loved her!
Things wound up about 2 p.m. with -- surprise! -- more food! Lunch was wonderful -- a curry of potatoes and green beans, homemade chapati, basmati rice, raw carrot salad, cheese-stuffed petite sweet peppers, and several kinds of sweets. Every meal offered fruit juice and Coca-cola and, often, hot Indian tea (chai). All the food was both homemade and fresh as can be. You could truly taste that freshness, as well as the thoughtful care and love that went into each preparation.
We retreated to Massi's house, thinking that we might stretch out for a few hours after an early and busy morning, but it quickly became Grand Central Station, with people rushing in and out in preparation for the Big Dance. While sitting in our room, we were joined by a precocious 11-year-old, who wanted to chat with us about school and cameras and football (soccer!), as the US- game was that night. Sarah had boldly predicted a US win, prompting a good-natured bet with Crazy Uncle Bobo (okay, just our silly name for him, as we could only remember that his real name began with an N -- we could never seem to remember any name over two syllables.)
The deal: If the U.S. won, the uncles would have to sing God Bless America at the evening saanji. If England won, we would sing God Save the Queen. If it was a draw, we would all sing The Indian National Anthem. (Thank Ganesh -- it was a draw!)
Finally, we changed clothes yet again (bit dressier) and were heading for the venue. Let's just say we took the scenic route. :-}
As we arrived, we found another ceremonial altar in the center of the dance floor. Priya came out (another costume change) and solemnly lit candles surrounding the alter. Then she joined her family sitting in a row of chairs in front of us all -- this marked a ritual of gift giving. A highlight: Kanchan's mother had died when she was 15 days old. She was the only girl in a large  family of boys. Her oldest brother was 18 and married quickly in order to create a ready-made family and care for Kanchan and her young brothers. This night, Priya was presented with a gorgeous necklace set that had belonged to Kanchan's birth mother -- a moving surprise to us all -- as well as her grandmother's wedding sari. Suffice it to say,  there were some moist eyes in the crowd...
After a buffet, some young girls spirited us away to give us a quick dance tutorial in the lobby. Now, don't envision a wild Bollywood dance party. This was an evening of traditional Indian dance, led by a terrific musical ensemble that Dipak performs with, specializing in -- drumroll please -- traditional Indian music. They took the stage and the dancing commenced. Typically, it was a circle dance based on simple, repetitive steps. But as the musical troupe played faster, the dancers had to keep up, the fastest, best dancers moving to the center. Priya, her sisters, cousins and closest friends formed the gorgeous core, dancing with beautiful and swooping abandon. It was as if we all were dancing around a crowd of lovely birds in flight. Once you got into the swing of it, the experience was transcendental, the steps coming without thought and the group moving as one. The women alone danced the first few songs -- young, old, everyone jumped into the fray. The music was infectious and the steps came faster and faster. Hindu jazzercise! In time, men joined in -- filling the floor with equally magnificent dancers who moved with joy and confidence.
The mood was fun, lively. How wonderful that no one had to seek out a dance partner. We were partnered with the entire crowd. Everyone told us that we should return in October for Diwali, a religious celebration held in the autumn that honors Lakshmi, the goddess of wealth or the goddess Kali. Traditionally, the festival marks the start of a new year, we are told and is marked by NINE DAYS of this dancing. (The women joked that this was a great way to lose weight). We vowed to mark our calendars and spilled out of the school welcoming the cold night air, collapsing into bed for a well-deserved rest, but feeling the tingling excitement of Christmas Eve. Tomorrow is Priya's Wedding Day!

Incidentially.....

The expectation we had before arriving in England was that we would be able to blog every night certainly, and a couple of times a day hopefully. As you can tell, that was not the case. Although the Visavadia family had wireless internet, it was hard to find time to grab a computer and sit down to write a blog entry. Frankly, I didn't want to miss anything happening downstairs. When things were slow downstairs, everyone was upstairs getting ready, which meant that the room with the computer was wall to wall women. Women changing clothes, putting on make up, dressing in sarees (which is time consuming and takes a lot of room - and a lot of hands - and a whole lot of safety pins!), looking for lost items, etc.

So, when we've had a minute with a computer, we've tried to play catch up. Last night, our first night in Oxford at Diane's, I quickly wrote about Thursday and Friday, not doing either day justice. Kimber has promised that she would write today about Thursday and Friday and Saturday night. Oh, Saturday night. Now, describing Saturday night will require the skills of a talented, professional writer; fortunately, I am travelling with one.

About Diane: years ago when my brother, Don, lived and worked in Oxford, he stayed with Diane. She became a member of our family and a wonderful friend. I have stayed with her 4 times, and Campsfield Farm now feels like home. Diane took good care of Don for several years and now watches over me. In 2002, we left some of Dad's ashes in the Bladon Churchyard close to where Winston Churchill is buried, so Diane watches over Dad as well. She occasionally drops a flower or two next to "our" bench and thinks good thoughts....

Being American Gets Us Free Stuff

On Friday, we went to Wembley Street, affectionately known as "Little India" by our new family. At the mendhi party, everyone had an opinion about where we should talk and that we should NOT under any circumstances accept the first price quoted to us. Fortunately, we had Kavita with us. Kavita, the young woman who has never paid full price for anything.

We walked along the street, looking at sidewalk displays of shirts, sarees, sandals, etc. A couple of silk shirts caught my eye and pretty soon we were inside and the fun was on. Once we determined what size I wear (VERY, VERY VERY LARGE) the woman working at the store brought out everything in my size. There was a blue suit that the store owner wanted me to buy but which didn't fit and, frankly, I didn't like all that much. He kept lowering the price and I kept saying no. At the end of the day, he reduced my final price by $30 PLUS threw in a free shawl PLUS threw in the blue suit for free.

I needed a petticoat for the saree that I am wearing to the wedding so we asked if this store had any. Of course they had some....unfortunately, none of them were my size. How did I know there were none my size? Because the woman helping us insisted that I try one on over my head and I got stuck in the frickin' thing. Yes, we have pictures. Yes, it was hysterical. I thought the shop owner was going to have a stroke! It was shortly thereafter that he started giving us free stuff.

(Kimber here) Wembley Street stretches in the shadow of the famed Wembley Stadium, but it feels like another continent. Parking is hard to come by, so everyone seems to be on foot, which makes it easier to soak in the colors, sights and smells. This is the home of everything Indian. Sari shops. Groceries. Restaurants. Indian funeral homes. Even an Indian "gospel" storefront church. So wonderful to stroll past the open air markets, with boxes and shelves brimming with fresh fruits and vegetables and things that we've never laid eyes on before. Bargains abound, though Kavita was absolutely right -- haggling and standing firm is the name of the game. When it came to clothes, we were finding things 50% (or more) less than what you could find in the states. I snatched up a silk Kurti blouse for mother, sweet white cotton eyelet punjabis for the girls, sparkling bracelets (bangles) for the Saturday night saanji and wedding day, stick-on mendhi designs for the girls, a pretty sari (miles of fabric) for my mother-in-law -- you name it, you could probably find it here on Wembley -- which is honestly about as close as either of us are likely to get to India.
Many of the girls we met acknowledge that they prefer to fly over to India for their clothes shopping. The prices are even cheaper than what you will find on Wembley and the selection is magnificent. In fact, Priya and her mother had already been to India to select wedding clothes for all the women of the family. We can hardly wait for THAT red carpet moment!
Tonight I will attend the saanji in Priya's home wearing a terrific punjabi borrowed from our darling Kavita -- a deep coral-pink shade with a bright marigold-colored trim. Can hardly wait!

(Sarah back) Friday night was a low key saanji (son-gee), or singing, and didn't last too long which was good because Saturday is an early, early morning and a long, long day.

How Many Laughing, Singing, Colorful Women Can You Fit In Your House?

Thursday was the best morning of our trip so far....we got to sleep until 10! Kavita got to catch up a bit on her sleep as well, which she really needed. Don't tell her parents that she had a bit of a lie in - there was work to be done!

We started the day with an old-fashioned sewing circle. Well, sort of. Kavita and Kimber did the stitching -- Kavita was altering a sari top and Kimber was hemming sleeves in shirts that she brought over. Sarah was not, as Massi suggested, "the lazy one." Rather, she was -- or so she informed us -- the story teller.
The amazing thing about Indian garments is that they are constructed with very, very generous seams with the intention of permitting alterations. K and K sat on the bed stitching away while Sarah kept us - rimshot, please -- in STITCHES with tales both silly and ribald. It was a wonderful, relaxing way to ease into the day.

As expected, the highlight of this day was the mendhi party. This is the Hindu tradition of decorating the hands and feet of the bride with lacy, intricate henna designs. The henna is the consistency thick glue and is in clear tubes sort of like toothpaste but with a fine point and smelling of eucalyptus and clove oil. (Some of the Indians girls admitted that they hate the smell, but we found it to be pleasant.) You squeeze the tube, the henna comes out (the thicker the better), and you basically draw whatever design you want. It's sort of like doodling on a canvas of epidermis. The henna dries, is rubbed off and the temporary (about 3 weeks) tattoo remains. (In our case, it gradually faded to create a reasonable facsimile of liver spots!)
id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Priya's mendhi took about 2 hours to do. The woman who did it did not use a pattern, but drew freestyle on Priya's hands and feet. Traditionally, the mendhi artist puts the grooms initials somewhere in the design. On their wedding night, the groom tries to find his intitials and if he does, they say that he will be the dominate person in the marriage; if he can't, then Priya will be. Many of the ladies at the mendhi party tried to find Chet's initials and were not able to. (His name was on Priya's left ring finger, for those of you wondering.)

Priya was unable to use her hands at all after her mendhi was done so her sisters and friends had to feed her and help her do anything she wanted/needed to do. As we were sitting around singing and laughing, it was poignant to watch young women taking care of one of their own in such an intimate way.

Priya made sure that Kimber and I had our mendhi done. It was hard to sit still while someone inked up the top of your hands. Naturally, as soon as mine was done two things happened: I had to go to the bathroom and my nose itched! I was able to wait until the henna dried to address both.

There were probably 80 women there but it was hard to tell because they were coming in and out. The mendhi night is always fun because of the henna. I think the Aunties and the Grannies grew weary of all the giggling and carrying on!

When we got back to Masee's, Kavita told us to rub Ben-Gay on to our mendhi to make it dark. The more body heat a person has, the darker the color of the henna and you want the henna to be as dark as possible. You could have smelled us coming about 8 miles away!

Because it had become routine, when Kavita got to Masee's we stayed up and talked and laughed and unwound from the day.

By the way, we thought the name of the woman we were staying with was "Masee", but we learned that "masee" means "mother's sister". So, instead of saying someone is an aunt, they are called "masee", which tells the listener exactly who the person is. By now, Kimber and I are picking up Hindu words and phrases - mostly names and blessings.

We had a chance to talk to Priya's dad during the meal. He was explaining different things about the wedding ceremony and mentioned that the car that Priya and Chet will leave in will run over a coconut. The coconut symbolizes the ego of man and how it has to be broken to get to the sweet goodness inside. There is no place for ego in a marriage. He has these wonderful nuggets of wisdom and we love talking to him and learning from him.

We are going to Wimbley tomorrow to shop for traditional Indian clothes. I want a punjabi to take home. A punjabi is a long tunic with slacks under it. Kavita gets to go with us so she gets a day off. Well, not off exactly, she has to babysit for the Yanks!

We have taken literally a thousand pictures, but we can't get them from the cameras to the varioius computers we've been using. When we get home, we'll load a bunch at once.

Paris vs. Kimba and Sayra

Sitting in Wamego, Kansas, two weeks ago, taking a day trip to Paris sounded like a great idea. Getting to St. Pancras station by 6:45 a.m. didn't seem like a big deal. How hard could it be?

Then, we found out that Priya is not driving during the week before her wedding, the nightly singing parties last until after 10, the early morning tube at Hendon Central (our local tube stop) is mixed up in the early morning hours so getting the St. Pancras was going to be a headache and we were beat from the day long tour of London.

But, we are committed world travelers so Priya booked a cab to come for us at 5:00. Oh yes, you read that right, FIVE O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING. We woke at 4:30 and waited for the cab. We arrived at the station with plenty of time to spare so we had a cup of tea and a muffin.

I had booked first class tickets on the Eurostar and we were glad that I did. The service was great. We had breakfast - I had ham and cheese, yogurt, croissant and a roll, Kimba had an omelet with salmon, along with a croissant and yogurt. She also had hot chocolate which was unreal. It was basically melted chocolate, very thick and rich, which could be sweetened with sugar and lightened with milk. If you like dark chocolate (Mom!) you would love this.

The train ride was about 2.5 hours long. We were in the Chunnel for only 20 minutes. KIMBA TAKES OVER: Upon arrival, we emerged in Garde du nor (sp?), the big metropolitan Paris train station around 10 a.m. and joined the Golden Tour, which included an all-day, jump-on-jump-off bus tour around all the big sights. It's hard to describe the moment of impact when you find yourself squarely in the heart of Paris. The towering, old buildings dripping with black ironwork, the majestic statuary, even the artistry of street lights and planters is breathtaking.

Although the skies were ominous, we enjoined an open air ride along the Champs Elysses (sp?), sauntering along in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower, skimming over bridges that spanned the Seine River, buzzing past palaces that are centuries older than America, and hearing that jeering, distinctive sound of the gendarme cars as they sped past -- very, very French. Sarah couldn't help but imagine her dad as a young American G.I. strolling these very streets in wonder.
When the anticipated rains finally hit, we were forced to take shelter in The Louvre. THE LOUVRE. Tough gig, eh? Apparently, all of Paris had the same great idea. Nevertheless, we quickly sought out The Louvre top hits -- the enigmatic Mona Lisa, the headless Venus de Milo (who may or may not have been meant to represent Aphrodite, or maybe a local Sea Goddess, no one really knows), the Wingless Victory, some Big Ass oil paintings of old dead people, and lots of statues of men without pants on -- which made us all snicker and point like the 13-year-old girls we are at heart. (Husbands were remembered fondly...)

Unfortunately, thousands of rain-dampened visitors turned that venerated attraction into a 12-Euro sauna. Half-naked marble people and steamy humans. Not a good combination. We exited into the cool mist. We left it all behind to lunch with Quasimodo. (Husbands were fondly remembered...)

The rains were picking up as we dodged into the Quasimodo Bistro, about a block away from the |Notre Dame Cathedral. It was a warm, welcome refuge. Sarah chose a Croque Monsieur sandwich (Kansas translation: toasted ham and cheese topped with melted cheese and (gasp) her first warm chocolate crepe. Kimber fell into a steaming bowl of French onion soup. Did we HAVE to slip back out in the rain? Yes. Notre Dame was only a block away.

What an enchanting refuge. Sliding into that soft darkness, with miles of flickering candles and the haunting tones of occasional organ chords and spontaneous religious observations. The cathedral seems 8 miles long, studded with brilliant stained glass and rich religious icons. But it's hard to sit on those straight-backed, straw-seated chairs and not be struck by the strange juxtaposition of solemn house of worship and flat-out tourist attraction. Somehow, they make it work. Sarah was moved to steal a candle for Curtis' mother, but cooler heads prevailed and she deposited the required euros... Another soul saved!

We wandered about and saw the massive and impressive Justice Building, strolled by St. Chapelle Cathedral (which was under a big renovation) and hopped over to the Left Bank to get a taste of the winding, narrow Latin Quarter. More rain? Just an excuse to pop into another Bistro for hot chocolate and (can you guess?) another chocolate crepe! We ordered one, but our rather attractive waiter took pity on us and brought us two! (Husbands. were fondly remembered...) Sarah very thoughtfully told him "Gracias"....

More rain encouraged an early departure. We unraveled the mysteries of The Metro and took a steamy, rush-hour ride back to the train station.

SAYRA BACK: We had to wait a little bit for the Eurostar, but once we boarded, we agreed that it had been a great, grand, glorious day in Paris. Funny story - for our meal, we had chicken curry. And, after eating Indian food all week, it was bland! BLAND! We had champagne on the train which encouraged the naps that we each took.

We made our way back to Hendon Central on the tube, arriving about 10 p.m. Priya's dad picked us up from the station and delivered us back to the house. The singing was done and we greeted guests on the sidewalk. We were both so tired and were looking forward to taking a shower and heading to bed. But, Kavita had other ideas....

When we got to Mahsee's (that means "mother's sister") - which is where we are staying - Kavita brought out all the clothes for us to try on for the sanji (party on Saturday night) and the wedding. It was brilliant. We laughed and ooohed and aaahed. Finally, in the wee hours of the morning, we went to sleep.

Kimber wanted me to make sure that the alarm was NOT set.

Kimba and Sayra Tour London. No Arrests Made.

Bright and early Tuesday morning Kimber, Neha and I headed to Victoria Station to begin our all day total London experience tour. It is light very early here so it didn't seem as early as it was - and it WAS early. Just ask any member of the Visvadia famiy who got up to make sure we had tea before we left. Neha walked us to the bus station which is only about 3 blocks from where we are staying. She rode with us to the Hendon Central tube station and got us on the right line for Victoria. We have Oyster cards, making it so easy to travel. We put money on the cards and then just "tap" the card when we go into the station and again on the way out and the cost of the trip is deducted.

From Victoria Station, we had directions to the headquarters of Golden Tours. We got checked in and loaded into a big bus. There were about 40 people on the tour from all over the world. The most obnoxious were from Canada and New Jersey! Good news is that Kimba and I were calm compared to most of the other travelers.

Our guide was Leslie who didn't seem to mind making up stuff that she didn't know. I am not sure the English history she shared will be found in any history book!

In my previous travels to London, I have always used the tube to get around so I haven't seen much of above-ground London. I made up for that on Tuesday! The traffic is miserable; wall to wall people, cars, buses, bikes, scooters, motorcycles. But, it's LONDON!

We drove by all the main London sights - Big Ben, Houses of Parliament, Westminster Abbey, Kensington Palace, 10 Downing Street, etc. etc. then made our first stop at Buckingham Palace where we saw the Changing of the Guard. Kimba and I laughed because it was called a "wet change" because of the rain - making us think about our kids and diapers! Back on the bus, we went to St. Paul's Cathedral. (Sing along now, Feeeeeeed the birrrds...) We traced the steps of Diana Spencer's enormous train and couldn't help but think about what that day was like in this massive, ornate environment. We also laughed at a pair of cheeky young fellows on our tour. When you arrive, everyone reminds you that this is a house of WORSHIP and you must treat it as such. Then once inside, we glanced down through these large, lacy heating grates in the cathedral floor to see ... people eating pie in a restaurant located in the basement CRYPT. Yes, yes, you must not defile our house of WORSHIP the college boys whispered... |Next, we were whisked off to the West End where we had lunch in a pub Kimba is now taking over with a nice couple from Michigan who were living temporarily in Germany. Lots of chatting, laughing and food talk. Afterward, we took a stroll about Covent Gardens, listening to a young string ensemble delight the crowds. Back aboard, we were off to the Tower of London and great views of the Thames River and the Tower Bridge -- so many visual icons in one spot! Lots of information about beheaded queens and traitors and so many levels of history in one spot. We happened to be on hand to observe the changing of the Guard at the Tower, then queued up to see the Royal Jewels, including grand crowns and The Royal Orb, and the Crown of India, which was made up and worn just once by King George for his tour of India. We had to stop and pay homage to the beheaded queens at a square where most of the beheadings took place -- were a little freaked out that there was a public drinking fountain located there that required you to, well, bend over, bow your HEAD and get a drink...
The day was an orgy of ancient architecture -- we soaked in so much and loved the feeling of touching mossy old stones that were older than the city itself. We finally said goodbye to the ravens (a mascot at the Tower, they actually raise them in cages -- it is said that when the ravens leave the Tower of London, it is an awful omen for the city) we sauntered down to the Thames and hopped aboard a boat for a short turn up the River to the London Eye, a massive Ferris Wheel with encapsulated cars that give you a slow, wonderful turn above the city. By this time, it was nearly 6 p.m. and the clouds that had scudded above us all day were breaking, bathing the city in a warm, lovely light. We enjoyed the view, took lots of photos and scouted a path back to the Tube. All over London, we had seen brightly painted statuary of small elephants that were meant to draw attention to the plight of the Indian elephant -- sort of the way that U.S. cities have public art installations or decorated horses/cows all over town. London is such a fun blending of the old and the new -- old traditions, cathedrals, statues, etc... and a young energy and smattering of wild architecture -- a skyscraper painted zebra stripes, a mirrored building that looks approximately like a pickle appropriately dubbed The Gherkin, etc...
We hustled home on the Tube at peak rush hour smelling like goats -- sorry London -- and were warmly welcomed back at the Vasavadia party, which was in full swing. Kanchan made sure we had a warm plate of incredible food -- a potato curry in a tomato sauce, small puffs made of black-eyed peas, great relishes, and an incredible sweet that had pistachios in it -- wow. We hurried in to join the evening singing, which the girls had turned into a game reminiscent of hot potato -- they tossed a pillow about and whoever caught it had to sing a song that began with the same syllable as the last one that was played on the CD player. Much laughter and Sara and I were required to sing Georgie Girl and Home on the Range and the KSU Fight Song. The evening ended with the men being drawn into the fun with a musical throwdown. The ladies would start a song, the men would have to respond with a song that began with the same syllable. Hilarity and friendly competition ensued! Highlight: Grandfather warbling a lovely song that the young girls clearly didn't recognize. 1942 Love Song! He explained.

Sayra back So......Wednesday is Paris and we have to be at the station at 5:45. NO ONE is happy about that. No. One.

We Made It and the Wedding Celebration Begins.

Kimber and I met in Chicago on Sunday. She was waiting for me when my delayed flight arrived. I would have recognized her anywhere! We picked up where we left of 25 years ago by having a drink in an airport bar!

We boarded our plane and the trip was officially begun. We watched movies and the flight map for most of the trip. Kimber started watching Slumdog Millionaire so she could learn the Jai Ho dance. Unfortunately, the battery ran out before she could get up and dance in the aisle of the plane. Wait a minute...that should probably be "fortunately"!

We arrived in London about 6:30 a.m. on Monday. We went through Immigration which has taken me literally hours before. However, on Monday, there were NO lines and we walked up to an agent who stamped our passports and sent us on our way. It was unbelievable.

I told Priya that we would not be through Immigration and have our luggage for an hour, and not to come get us until 8:00. So, while we waited for Priya and her dad, we talked to a couple from Kent who had just returned home from holiday in China. They had interesting tales to tell. Before we knew it, Priya was standing in front of us at the airport. She looked radiant and it was so good to see her!

We went back to Priya's house where we learned that there was a change in our lodging accommodations. We would be staying with a wonderful Indian woman about 3 doors down from Priya. We had a bit to eat then we took a nap. Said nap was 6 hours long!

When we woke up we went back to Priya's for supper. The food was authentic Indian: eggplant curry, saffrone rice, chipata (NOT spelled correctly - it was like a tortilla), some various chutneys.

The women, 3 generations of them, sat on the floor of the living room and sang songs in Hindi (gujarati). All the furniture had been moved into storage and the living room floor had big pillows and carpet squares for the women to sit on. They were dressed in fabulous saris and other kinds of traditional Indian dress.

The songs they sang were invitations to Priya and Chet's wedding and other songs asking for blessings on the couple. Kimber and I were able to join in sometimes because the songs were very repetitive. Several women would tell us what was going on.

Then, the younger girls started singing more contemporary songs and they played a game where one song was sung and then the next song had to start with the last letter of the previous song.

Priya said "Mom, we need a song that begins with 'J'" I, of course, said "Jai Ho!|" Everyone laughed and started to sing it. Then, they said "Now we need a song that begins with 'k'". I said, "Kumbya" and this room full of Hindu women burst out in song, singing Kumbya! One of the younger girls told Kimber and I that they knew all kinds of "Jesus" songs!

The party continued until 10 when they sang a song about sleeping eyes, handed out a small sack of sugar to us and we headed back to our beds. We were ready for a long night of sleep.

What a wonderful experience this has already been. Priya's family has been wonderful to us - so kind and patient and loving. We are truly made to feel welcome by this entire community.

Tuesday is London.

Background for Perspective

So, I was thinking as I was folding the laundry, weighing my bags (that's right, bagS. So sue me.), and wondering what I was forgetting, that this Kimber/Kimba person is something of an enigma to many of your reading this blog. Since you won't/can't fully understand the magnitude of the next 10 days until you know the whole story, let's tell it, shall we?

The year was 1985. I had just graduated from law school. Luke was 3. We moved to Dodge City and lived one block west of my mom on La Mesa. Dad was the district judge.

Kimber was the Hutchinson News Dodge City Bureau Chief. She was a recent graduate of Kansas State University and native of Wichita.

It must have been a slow news day because Kimber called and asked to do a story about me practicing law in my dad's district. Something clicked that day between us and we became fast friends.

We shared many, many laughs. Here are a few: while house sitting at my dad's (read: drinking his alcohol, eating his food and swimming in his pool), we called the PTL Club and made a sizable pledge in Donie's name. Of course we provided his name and address. Apparently, he got reminders to pay and follow up letters for quite some time afterwards. Then there was the time that I represented her in city court in Garden City (She did NOT run that stop sign. No. She did NOT. The police officer was clearly visually impaired. Blind as a bat. Not paying attention.). Kimber was found guilty but no fine imposed because her defense was so entertaining. As was her attorney. Or what about when we "helped" with a murder mystery weekend at the Cimarron Hotel, had too much to drink, one of us went skinny dipping in a farm pond (A FARM POND!) while the other one laughed when the cops came. Might I add at this point that I have never laughed so hard? Until I cried, that's how hard.

We took Luke to Colorado one summer and stayed in the Smith cabin in Green Mountain Falls. On that trip, we went to the ladies' room at the Broadmoor Hotel and were so impressed with the linen hand towels that we thought we needed a picture of them. Never one to be without a camera, I got ready to take the shot, when a drunk woman came in. She wanted in the photo, so I have a picture of Kimber, linen hand towels and some strange drunk woman. I think the poor drunk is still trying to convince people that she really had her picture taken in the bathroom that night!

I moved on to Ottawa University and Kimber moved to Oregon and we lost touch with each other. During the intervening years, we both lost our fathers, got married, I continued to raise Luke and she had 2 daughters.

When I started at Kansas State, I was going through files and found a KSU Collegian (the student newspaper) article about a bad rental property written by, you guessed it, Kimber Williams. That was in 2002. Seven years later, Kimber found me and I'll see her for the first time in 25 years tomorrow.

I can't think about Kimber without thinking about laughing and giggling and snorting and laughing and guffawing and laughing. Sometimes while sober. She and I are alike in many ways, not the least of which is that we have never met a stranger. I'm telling you, there is a book in here somw

Oh yeah. This trip has success written all over it.