General – An American in Kerala

For This Women’s Day, Do Better

Note: I am completely aware that I am coming from a privileged place as I write this. I have a hired housekeeper and cook here in Kerala (but even then, as a dear friend pointed out, the task gets passed from one woman to the next), and I have a supportive husband who encourages me in everything I do. He has grown just as much as I have since we’ve been married, and it’s been a privilege to see. I have written this for women who, for whatever reason, cannot speak up.

For this entry, I feel a bit like Frank Constanza in Seinfeld’s “Festivus” episode, where, during the airing of grievances, he shouts, “I got a lotta problems with you people, and now, you’re gonna hear about it!” But if you’ve known me for my whole life, you know when I get super bothered by something, I turn into an 85-year-old man who is basically shouting at kids to get off his lawn.

Don’t get me wrong. I love International Women’s Day. We need it. We desperately need it to acknowledge all the trailblazing that’s been done, and of course, all the work which still needs to be done. My discussion, or rant if you prefer, addresses the latter.

My husband came home at lunchtime yesterday and said he’d been asked to give a short speech for Women’s Day (along with several students and other faculty). He asked, “What do you want me to say?”

And I was like, “BOY, AM I GLAD YOU ASKED”:

1. Women’s advancement starts in the home. Women can make great strides in careers, science, high-level corporate positions etc., but if, when she goes home, her husband won’t do a load of laundry, then we’re really not getting anywhere at all, are we?

There are no “set roles” anymore. There is a household, usually with two working people. Hence, those who live within the house need to share those duties.

Even if a woman is a SAHM, she deserves support and a chance to develop a talent or hobby she loves because, chances are, she feels totally consumed in her roles as a wife and mother.

TL;DR: Men, don’t be lazy. Do a round of dishes. Fold laundry. Take your kids out to play for a while. Your wife deserves a chance to be a person outside of being your children’s mother and your wife.

Like, I can’t even believe, in the year of our Lord 2023, that I need to write this down?? And yet I see story after story, post after post, of men simply not pulling their weight within the household.

2. Men need to share the mental load. Women are not only tasked with doing almost all household duties by default, but we also are tasked with the mental load of remembering basically everything. Appointments, school assignments, shopping lists, meal planning, where things are kept in the house, everything falls into the woman’s lap.

This invisible mental labor adds more stress than anything else and can make women feel completely overwhelmed and paralyzed.

And it doesn’t help to follow your wife around and say, “Just let me know if you need help.” That ADDS to this burden. YOU look around and see what needs to be done. YOU take over helping the kids with projects and assignments. YOU take over half the shopping list or the meal planning.

Not only are women tasked with this mental load, but we also bear the brunt of criticism, especially when it involves kids. Every critical comment a person can dream up is passed through very freely to the mother, the partner usually tasked as the primary caregiver. Believe me, we are already our own worst critics – you don’t need to add to it.

3. Why bother getting your daughter into activities to develop her talents and academics if you’re just going to ship her off to be married in a relationship where she loses all of what she’s learned?

There’s a reason films like The Great Indian Kitchen have been made, and that’s because it’s a reality for many women out there, not just in India, but throughout the world.

Let me take the unpopular opinion here – don’t invest in your daughter unless you plan on standing with her if her eventual marriage is mentally, emotionally, or physically abusive (or all of the above). Don’t invest in her education if you’re just going to tell her “log kya kahenge” or “what will people say” if she wants to escape that situation, and you’re only worried about the potential stigma of divorce. Don’t invest in her talents if you’re just going to tell her to “adjust, dear” when she says her new husband expects her to do all the housework with no help.

I will shout it from the rooftops – WOMEN’S ADVANCEMENT STARTS IN THE HOME. It starts with teaching your sons how to fend for themselves in the kitchen, how to do chores, how to pick up after themselves. It starts with letting your daughters take risks, letting them show their anger and shout and scream and express discomfort, letting them interrupt people who have tried to silence them. And, for the love of everything on this green Earth, stop glamorizing the martyrdom of motherhood. Just stop it. It helps absolutely no one, least of all, women.

Happy belated International Women’s Day. We can all do better and be better.

This post is part of Blogchatter’s CauseAChatter.

My 10 Favorite Kerala Foods (Plus One That I Hate)

When I first moved to Kerala, the one question people asked most was, “Do you like the food?” I didn’t know the importance of food for Malayalees at the time, so I felt confused why people asked that so often. I guess they thought the taste would be super alien to me since I grew up in the States. White rice is too spicy for us, know what I mean?

Of course I loved the food. The aromatic spices, the heat, the tang – it was heaven for my tastebuds. But I was always the odd duck in my immediate family. I liked seafood; no one else did. I liked jalapeños and black olives; no one else did. So it didn’t surprise me that I started enjoying Kerala food right away.

Kerala cuisine is, in general, based around three staples – rice, fish, and coconut. All meals will use at least one of these, if not all. It makes sense these would be staples because Kerala is a tropical, coastal state with paddy fields as far as the eye can see.

But one thing I’ve noticed is that every time I Google “best Kerala foods,” “best South Indian foods,” or any variation of the sort, the lists contain the following: idli, dosa, payasam, appam and stew, parotta and beef, karimeen pollichathu, and pazham pori (banana fritters). And I am always irritated because I know there are superior dishes out there. I’ve eaten them! I’ve cooked them!

Good food is endless here. So I decided to make my own list, including some unsung heroes of Kerala cuisine.

My Top 10 Fave Kerala Foods

1. Uttapam

Known in Kerala as oothappam, uttapam is a close relative of the famous dosa. If you ask me (and since this is my list), I think uttapam is the superior rice-based breakfast food. Since I am the only person in this house that likes uttapam, I don’t get to eat it often.

I’ve jokingly referred to uttapam as Kerala-style pizza. It is basically a thick, soft, savory pancake topped with vegetables (mainly onion, tomato, and green chili). You can eat it with sambar and chutney, but I prefer to eat it plain. It’s delicious enough on its own.

Photo showing South Indian dish called uttapam. — This was my first try making it for myself.

2. Anchovy and Sardine Fry

While uttapam is a rare treat for me, nettholi (anchovy) and mathi (sardine) fry are eaten at least twice per week. The fish are cleaned and marinated in a paste made from turmeric, black pepper, red chili, and salt. Then, they are fried until crisp, or if you’re me, until they are almost burnt.

I am not sure what makes these so delicious. But man oh man, couple fish fry with some Kerala red rice, pulissery, and mango pickle, and it is *chef’s kiss.* Man, I’m hungry already, and it’s not even lunchtime!

Photo showing fried sardines and anchovies — Nettholi/Anchovy fry

3. Thoran

Thoran is a savory dish made from any vegetable you can think of and coconut. The vegetable is diced up, the coconut is grated, and they are both stir-fried to perfection with turmeric, cumin seed, and salt.

I have several types of thoran that I love – cheera (red spinach), beetroot, green beans, banana flower, and chakkakuru (jackfruit seed). Thoran is a dish you will find during meal time at least every other day in many households.

As ubiquitous as this dish is, I had a hard time finding it on any “best Kerala foods” lists!

Photo showing a type of thoran, a Kerala dish. — This is none of my favorites. It’s radish thoran. Still delicious.

4. Ghee Rice/Neychoru

Ghee rice is self-explanatory. It’s made using a short-grained rice and ghee. However, whole spices like cinnamon, cardamom, cloves, and star anise are added for flavor, and the rice is topped with fried cashews, raisins, and onions. For me, the best part of this dish is the fried onions. Just hand me a plate of those please!

Let me pat myself on the back – I’ve perfected this dish. I received praise for my neychoru every time I make it. I serve it with chicken or mutton curry, raita, pickle, and papadum.

Photo showing a meal of ghee rice, chicken curry, raita, and pineapple. — My famous ghee rice is in the top right corner.

5. Bitter Gourd/Pavakkai Fry

Way back when I was in my first trimester and sick as a dog, I didn’t want to eat anything within a hundred-kilometer radius of our Calicut home. Nothing sounded good, and everything smelled terrible. One day I worked up a small appetite and asked Zac to bring me a veg meal from a nearby restaurant. By some small miracle, they served pavakkai fry in my meal that day, and I ate every last bite.

Pavakka, or bitter gourd, is a contentious vegetable. People either love it or hate it. It does have a bitter taste even after it’s cooked. I can eat pavakka in any type of recipe, but this one is my favorite. Similar to the fish fry, it’s marinated in a masala paste after slicing. Then it’s fried until it’s crispy. It’s normally eaten along with rice.

Photo showing karela/bitter gourd/pavakka fry. — My daughter, who hates most vegetables, loves this recipe.

6. Pulissery

Pulissery, also known as moru curry, is a curd-based curry. It can be made with only curd or with things like ash gourd, pineapple, cucumber or taro root. It’s usually tempered with mustard and fenugreek seeds, dry red chilis, shallots, curry leaves, and turmeric.

This is one of my favorite accompaniments for rice. But I could drink pulissery on its own. It’s that good.

7. Brinjal Fry, South Indian Style

I’m not entirely convinced this is a pure Kerala dish, but I’m including it. Brinjal, or eggplant, is much smaller here than in the US. I find it tastes better, but I’m unsure if it’s the vegetable itself that’s better or if it’s the preparations.

Anyway, this dish is made by slicing the brinjal, and then marinating it in a masala paste (see a theme yet?). It’s then fried until the edges are crisp, and the centers are soft. This is one dish I don’t make often because I eat them until they’re gone. Even if it’s in one meal. I have no shame.

8. Kappa and Meen Curry

Okay, THIS is a popular dish, and one you will see on the “popular Kerala foods” lists. Many years ago, kappa, also called cassava, was considered a poor man’s food, but you’ll now find it in almost every five-star buffet! The cassava is boiled, mashed, and cooked along with coconut, mustard seeds, dry red chilies, and curry leaves.

Kappa is served with all kinds of curries, but I think the best combo is with red fish curry. It’s another one of those tangy, sour, and spicy curries that I adore, and I go back for seconds, thirds, or fourths of this delicacy!

Photo showing the Kerala delicacy, kappa and meen curry. — Kappa and meen curry

Photo showing kappa dish after cooking. — Kappa and meen curry

9. Rasam

For sure, this dish didn’t originate in Kerala, but it’s consumed so widely in the state that I consider it part of local cuisine. I remember drinking rasam for the first time in a dingy Calicut canteen. I watched the locals throw their heads back and down the liquid, so I thought, “Hey, why not?” I lifted my steel cup and chugged the rasam, and my body went into brief shock. How could a soup pack so much flavor?

Like many recipes here, there are a few variations of rasam, but it almost always includes tamarind, black pepper, cumin seed, garlic, and coriander leaves.

Even though it’s more of a winter dish, I’ll down glasses of rasam on a hot summer day. I power through the sweating that comes post-drinking. I can’t get enough of the spicy, sour curries!

10. Thalassery Biryani

I love all kinds of biryani, so I had to put this on the list. Thalassery biryani is a special type of rice dish from Thalassery town in north Kerala.

Unlike most biryanis, which are made using basmati rice or another fragrant long-grained rice, Thalassery biryani is made with a short-grained rice called Jeerakasala.

Similar to neychoru, this biryani is cooked with lots of ghee, but then the rice is layered with cooked meat (chicken, fish, mutton, beef, etc.) and masala, and sealed so the flavors of the rice, meat, and masala blend together. It’s then topped with my faves – fried onions, cashews, and raisins.

One of the best biryanis I’ve ever had was from a little Thalassery biryani shack in Trivandrum. I tried a fish biryani that time. Everything aligned for that meal – the spices were just right, the amount of ghee was perfect, and the rice was neither too dry nor greasy.

One Dish That I Hate:

1. Puttu

I never felt more validated than when I read a story in March 2022 about a boy who wrote an essay on how much he hates puttu. Same, buddy, same. While the boy says it “breaks relationships” (I can only imagine!), I won’t go quite that far.

Puttu is always found on those “must try Kerala foods” lists, and I don’t get it. I have tried it in every possible way, and it’s not for me. It’s dry. The texture is gritty. And it tastes like paper. Sorry, Malayalees, please don’t kick me out (I also hate jackfruit)!

What are your favorite foods, whether they are from Kerala or elsewhere? What foods do you hate so much you want to toss them out the window when you see them? Let me know!

Mehndi, Mehndi!!

422217_607087879584_1611614569_n — What started it all.

I watched the young woman with her steady hand drawn lines on my inner wrist, moving towards my palm. The dark brown paste chilled my skin, and its earthy scent wafted into my nose.

My fingers wanted to twitch, but her thin hand held my hand in place so she could complete her art. Art for the skin – that’s what mehndi is. I’d never seen anything so intricate.

The flowers and paisleys she left behind dried and crusted. When I scraped the remnants off, the design had dyed my skin a burnt orange, which darkened to a deep auburn.

In the days that followed, I caught myself bringing my hand to my nose to capture the remaining scent of the henna paste. I admired the artist’s handiwork – spirals, dots, lines, and loops all making a trail to my fingertips.

I was in love, and I wanted to learn it. That was five years ago.

Like many, I suffer from impostor syndrome, so my doubt held me in check. Was it cultural appropriation for me, a white woman, to learn mehndi? Would I even be good at it?

In India, it’s an art that’s passed through families, where people learn on their own. The street mehndi artists (the best) taught themselves all the techniques. The proper shading, the right pressure to place on the cone for dispensing, and the creativity to create large designs that cover entire arms, hands, and feet.

There was no way I’d learn it, I decided. I snuffed out my desire and moved on with my life.

I moved on until last September, when my husband, daughter, and I were milling around our local grocery store. There, crammed on the bottom shelf of the beauty section, were henna cones.

I kept glancing at them but left empty-handed, still not confident that I could learn it. Instead, I went home and searched how to do it online – is it easy or difficult? Which kind should I use? Which designs are good for beginners?

And I asked the opinions of others if I should even bother with trying (they were all encouraging).

So, the next time we were at our grocery store, I slapped three cones in front of my confused husband and said, “I want to learn.” I braced myself for his laughter because I had zero confidence in my ability. Instead, he said, “Okay,” and paid for our groceries.

My first attempt at mehndi was terrible. I cut the cone down too far, so the paste came out too thick, and I couldn’t draw much with it.

I learned that mehndi isn’t too forgiving – you cannot afford to make many mistakes with it. Still, I felt a thrill run through me that I was actually doing it, and even my husband complimented my shoddy design.

My second attempt improved a bit. I drew a peacock, which has since become my favorite, but I still had no idea how to create a motif that flowed together.

I began scrawling on paper with the paste when I ran out of room on my hands and feet. It soothed me. Squeeze the cone and watch the paste twirl into flowers, peacocks, tikkas, and geometric shapes. The more I did it, the steadier my hand became, and the easier it was to flow shapes one into another.

14409914_10100160737792694_6393383317865594523_o — Baby mehndi!

14568191_10100165597753294_2548914229940432121_n — My first tikka design.

14915183_10100176739914314_3678420025893639935_n — I love to do these kinds!

14882320_10100175352285134_6672077399914304653_o — Tikka on the side of my wrist.

14956371_10100177894700114_1412266896920392784_n — A small motif for my mom (with my daughter’s name)!

One of my more recent, and super quick, designs.

Seven months and fifty henna cones later, I now draw on hands, feet, and shoulders with ease. I create permanent designs on unfinished wood, including letters, bangles, necklace pendants, bird houses, and photo cubes.

I’ve even started using acrylic paints to make designs on journals and Mason jars.

If I’m already this good after seven months of practice, I cannot wait to see where I am seven more months from now.

15995118_10100208657326564_8544057455089411986_o — My first jewelry box that has since been claimed by my three year old for storing small toys.

17017213_10100230111098034_439702342954445514_o — Practicing on scrap wood!

17155904_10100235373557024_3926281226315590146_n — Journal design with acrylic paint.

What It’s Like for Me

I’ve been trying extremely hard not to write an entry like this because I was never sure how people would take it. Heck, I’m not even sure how I’m really taking it. I’m so torn about writing it. Living in India is very conflicting. Some days my heart is so full of being grateful and appreciative for having this opportunity, living in such an ancient culture, seeing the historic monuments and buildings, spoiling myself with massages and such because we can afford it here, living in luxury with our three rooftop swimming pools at our apartment buildings. Other days, I find myself daydreaming about driving my own car down one of Sullivan County’s empty roads. No car horns, no temple music, just blissful silence. Or I get wistful and dreamy about the spacious and roomy parking lots at Walmart ( you will never understand how lucky you are) after a day of frustrated shopping where we can’t find a single parking space at our overly crowded grocery store. Or I wish that I don’t have to second guess what I’m wearing when we go into public, never knowing if it’s fully appropriate for the conservative culture here. Or I wish that I could heat style my hair without it protesting into a ball of frizz or that my make up wouldn’t melt off my face. These may seem like small things, for sure, but when you’re living them everyday, the pangs can get really strong. Most days I’m fine, but some days, I swing from one extreme to the other with me wanting to stomp my feet like a child and scream, “I don’t want to adapt. ANY. MORE.”

I’ve been having waves of homesickness since Christmas Eve, and it’s been getting worse and the waves have been getting a little longer since it’s coming up on a year when I went to the US. In fact, yesterday, I was listening to “California Girls” by the Beach Boys, and I was so stupidly overcome with emotion that I had to sit down at the kitchen table with my head in my hands. So, even though I feel like I’m complaining a bit with this, it just poured out of me and felt sooo therapeutic. I think that even though India overall has been kind to me, it will never accept me as Brittany, wholly American and unchanged. I’ve had to tone down my sense of humor (sarcasm, pretty much), what I wear, how I approach people, how I address people, who I make eye contact with, who I smile at, who I say hello to (which is no one unless I know them). I’ve even had comments on my hair because it’s shorter than what is considered traditional here. The “if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all” mindset doesn’t exist so much here. Good in some ways, and not so good in others.

I’ve been keeping tabs on this thing called the Kerala Blog Express, sponsored by Kerala Tourism, where they bring a group of foreign bloggers to see the best Kerala has to offer. And that’s just it – they’re only seeing the best. As I was reading the latest blog, cheekily titled 12 Reasons to Never Visit Kerala, I felt a huge disconnect between what the blogger had written and my own experience. It’ll be my fourth year here this October, so I’m starting to believe that my feelings and opinions about living here may actually have some clout. I have about 6 to 7 pages handwritten on this topic already, and I’m not even done yet, so I’ve decided to split up all of it in to shorter, easier entries. I’ll probably post once a week until I get it all typed.

First of all, this blogger talks about how hot and humid it is here and how you’re always covered with sweat (all true). But then he talks about how he slathered on SPF 50 when going out on the beaches and hiking, and I just…..I had to stop reading. I can’t even remember the last time I willingly went into the midday sun unless I’ve been 1) under a very large umbrella, 2) in an air conditioned car, or 3) hiding in the shade of a very tall, very broad building. Anyone who lives here knows that being outside between the hours of 10 and 6 is a huuuuge mistake. That’s why many of our beach photos are of sunsets – it’s not for romance. It’s because it’s too stinkin’ hot to go any other time of day. But we have made the mistake of going to the beach in the daytime. More than once, because we kept thinking it would improve each time we went. It didn’t. 10 am – traipsing through hot sand, hot sun, and….ugh….hot air. The beaches are all gorgeous, no doubt, but I think the sunbathers are nuts. No offense. I mean, good grief, it’s so hot outside, why did we think it would be fun? Then, in the car, on the way home, the A/C is cranked to the max, and we look at each other like, “Why did we just do that?” We’re exhausted from the sun, we’ll have to take yet another shower when we get home, and then the rest of the day is shot because we have to rest up since we have real lives to live here. So, yes, the tally – tourist in Kerala: appreciates the heat and sweat and sun and doesn’t miss out on any fulfilling activities because of this; and expat in Kerala: dives into the nearest building like some kind of vampire, counting the hours until I can go outside again. You can’t age me, Kerala sun! NO. WAY.

1519526_768615756424_1940329064_o — Never again.

The next thing on this guy’s list that struck me as odd – he writes that Indians have permanent smiles on their faces. To be honest, I have no idea what he’s talking about. With the exception of my husband, who smiles for approximately 85% of his day (not counting his sleepy time), Indians aren’t smilers. In my experience, the average Indian has a very serious, even borderline unfriendly appearance. I won’t even discuss the blatant stares I still get once in a while from people….or maybe I will, who knows where this paragraph will lead me? But appearances aside, Indians are some of the happiest, friendliest people on the planet. Don’t ask me why they’re so happy – they have lots of reasons not to be, so I’m still trying to flesh all that out.

And this friendliness and happiness leads to such unbelievable hospitality. People are so happy and so proud to have you as a guest in their home. And this, this is when Indians smile. I will never forget, on my first trip to India, we visited the Dhobi Ghat slum in Mumbai, and a young man invited our small crew to see his tiny, well kept home – I mean, it was tiny and most of his belongings were covered with the laundry that he was washing for the Mumbai residents. He just stood there with a broad smile on his face, gesturing for us to enter his home, and I’m sure he would have served us tea if we hadn’t been in such a hurry. This poor man would have given us something that he most likely struggled to earn, and he would have done it with a good, genuine heart. I can’t even fathom it – it leaves me speechless.

425322_607090045244_2070546250_n — That man is in the orange shirt.

Well, now that I’ve waxed poetic about the friendliness and hospitality of Indians, I’m going to tell you that it hasn’t been easy at all for me to make friends here. In fact, I didn’t make any friends at all until we moved to this new apartment complex in October 2015. That’s three, count ’em three, years of having no real, live friends to talk to besides my husband. But I remember the days at our old house when I would cry because I was so lonely for just one other female friend. Just one other mom friend, who could at least pretend to understand how destabilizing it can be to be a stay at home mom in a foreign country. Someone who could sympathize with me on the days when I’m feeling a bit homesick and like I’ve lost a sense of my identity – that I have no idea what I’m good at anymore. Someone who could understand why I protest keeping a maid and a cook because, while it’s extremely difficult to maintain a home here with all the dust and dirt, I didn’t like that my self-sufficiency was completely shredded. It’s taken me a long time to find those people.

And it’s not that there weren’t any women around me. I’ve had female neighbors the entire time I’ve lived here. But they were local Kerala women, at least one generation separated from me, and, I felt, an entire world away in values and interests. I vividly remember (because I felt so mortified) sitting in one woman’s home, she had made me tea, and after the initial “what are you preparing for lunch” conversation (topic of choice here), there was nothing but silence because we had no idea how to continue. And as for me, being a bit socially awkward, my brain kicked in to overdrive panic mode – What do I say? What do I say?? WHAT DO I SAY??? And that made it all much worse.

It has gotten easier. I’ve learned by the example of my husband, in those situations, it’s best to ask about family members – as many details as you can about as many members as you can think of. People love to talk about their families. This tactic has very much saved me from any more awkwardness. The tally – Tourist in Kerala: is greeted by smiling hotel representatives and tour guides and then thinks everyone here is constantly smiling and in a good mood; Expat in Kerala: sees and experiences the real deal (which I think, despite my complaining, is the better deal).

I hope I haven’t turned anyone off from visiting India. I promise you – it changes your life in the most unexpected ways. I sound like a broken record because I know I’ve written this before. Like I said, my emotions are always in a constant battle – it’s a duality, much like India itself. The extreme good and extreme bad, extreme wealth and extreme poverty learn to co-exist with each other somehow. People say that you either love India or you hate it when you visit for the first time, and I can assuredly say that it’s possible to love and hate this place in the same breath. This is my experience and mine alone. I’ll be posting the next entry sometime next week. Stay tuned!

One day at a time, usually with lots of caffeine.

Ode to Deed

My Gram died on Tuesday morning. All of her children and my grandfather were there with her when it happened. The years of watching Alzheimer’s chip away at a woman who was once stubborn, strong-willed, and boisterous are over. Her death may have been expected, but it still doesn’t end the grief. I’m heartbroken that I’m not there to hug my grandpa and tell him I love him and how he did such a wonderful job caring for her these last few years. I’m sad that I’m not there to tell my dad and my aunts that I’m sorry they have lost their mother. So, what I’m left with here in India is to tell my daughter about the great grandmother she’ll never meet.

And what do I tell her? The first memory that came to me was the hundreds of times I must have made Deed sing Irving Berlin’s “Easter Parade” because of the way she sang the “On the avenue, fifth avenue” lyric. Do I start there? Or do I start with her life? How she experienced so many losses – her parents, when she was young, and her daughter, to a motorcycle accident. I should surely tell Evelyn how Gram survived polio, but it left her with difficulty swallowing and back and leg pain. But perhaps I should begin with how my grandmother affected me. How I saw her unshakeable faith in Christ keep her spirits up when things were tough, and it was that same faith that I know she credits with not only saving her soul but also her sanity here on Earth. How she’s the reason I love to wear bright colors, sequins, and gaudy jewelry. And she fueled my secret love of silly horror and science fiction movies. And she taught me to feel no shame in putting up my Christmas decorations in October. For real, kids would come trick-or-treating at her house, and her Christmas tree would be decorated for all to see.

I could tell Evelyn about how Gram’s house was decorated with fake flowers, photographs of her children and grandchildren, seashells, sandcastles, and lighthouses. How she grieved for her cat, Andre, for years after he died. She loved the beach so much that, even after she couldn’t walk, when we would go to the Jersey shore every summer, she would sit and watch the waves crash on the beach and do nothing else. How she loved McDonald’s food so much that it caused a long running joke in our family about how she would crawl up a mountain just to get a Big Mac (“Day One”). I would want to tell Evelyn about my grandparents’ marriage, and how it went backwards. They acted like newlyweds these last few years, after my grandmother’s stubbornness began to fade. Gram would giggle like a little schoolgirl whenever Gramp would say, “Di, you look so beautiful.” Those moments were enough to leave the rest of us completely speechless.

I could tell her all these things, but I still feel bad that she will never truly know my grandmother. She won’t witness her personality; that what she lacked in tact, she made up for in love. Even my husband, who had met Gram several times, didn’t get to meet the full Diane Serafini. They won’t meet the woman who, when asked a murky philosophical question, would bark out a black or white answer with a Bible verse to back it up. Evelyn won’t get to know, and laugh at, Gram’s tendency to exaggerate things (“Look at all these trees! How do they get so huuuuuuuge?”) But she will know as much as I can tell her.

I’m not sure how to end this post. My feelings are still raw and, at the same time, I feel like she died a while ago. We knew this was coming, and especially within the last week, it was just a matter of when it would happen. I suppose I could say that I have slowly said goodbye to Gram ever since she started losing herself piece by piece. In some ways, especially for her, those losses were a benefit. She was able to have a real marriage with my grandfather because they didn’t fight anymore. And she lost the ability to worry which was great because, boy, was she EVER a worrier.

I guess I’ll end this by saying that I have peace knowing that her faith in Jesus has served her well, and she is in Heaven, no longer in pain from her twisted back and leg. Here are the lyrics to her favorite hymn.

On a hill far away stood an old rugged cross,
The emblem of suff’ring and shame;
And I love that old cross where the dearest and best
For a world of lost sinners was slain.

So I’ll cherish the old rugged cross,
Till my trophies at last I lay down;
I will cling to the old rugged cross,
And exchange it some day for a crown.

Oh, that old rugged cross, so despised by the world,
Has a wondrous attraction for me;
For the dear Lamb of God left His glory above
To bear it to dark Calvary.

In that old rugged cross, stained with blood so divine,
A wondrous beauty I see,
For ’twas on that old cross Jesus suffered and died,
To pardon and sanctify me.

To the old rugged cross I will ever be true;
Its shame and reproach gladly bear;
Then He’ll call me some day to my home far away,
Where His glory forever I’ll share.

A Time for Giving Thanks

I’m not exactly sure where I’m going with this post, so bear with me. I suppose you could consider it my Thanksgiving post. I encountered a woman last week who was begging for money. This is my first time since moving to Kerala (back in October 2012) that I have had someone approach me for money. As I was closing our front gate after letting Zac out with the car, I saw this woman out of the corner of my eye, staring at me. Being stared at is nothing new for me, so I kept about my business of shutting the gate. Then, I heard her saying something to me, so I finally looked at her, noticing she had her hand extended. I did what I’ve been told to do – I shook my head, avoided eye contact, and hurried to get in the car. The reason I’m telling this story is because while this woman was asking for money, I had an awful internal reaction to her. I got angry. I assumed she was asking me for money simply because I was white. Zac thought the same thing until we looked behind us and saw her approaching another woman to ask for money. I felt awful, and I don’t think I have even told Zac how awful I felt about it.

So, I’ve been grappling with this episode ever since – I have had to “re-check my privilege,” if you will. That woman, most likely, did need money, any money. And I wish I would have given her something. But at the time I had no purse on me, no pockets, and I was hot, tired, achy, swollen and sweaty. I got angry with her for an unjustifiable reason. So, I’ve been praying that God keeps my pride reigned in and my patience more enduring. Since then, I have been hyper-aware of things I am thankful for.

Zac and I are blessed enough to be living well in India. In fact, we are living in excess. We have a beautiful apartment, a maid/cook, a washing machine, a water purifier, a brand new car, no concerns on how we will afford our monthly expenses, two laptops, wireless internet, a new camera (for lots of sleeping baby photos), and a generator, which is thanks to our electrician landlord. Our maid is awesome. I was all huffy when Zac said he was going to hire a lady to help around the house because, well, pride? But now that I am getting further along in my pregnancy in a very hot and humid climate, I am incredibly grateful for the work she does. As for our washing machine, I could hug it every single time I do a load of laundry – I washed clothes by hand for seven months in Calicut. I was pretty bad at it. I ruined quite a few pieces of clothing. Having a water purifier means that neither Zac nor I have to boil our water before drinking it, which was something else we had to do in Calicut. And the generator means that I can still sprawl under the ceiling fan when the power inevitably goes off almost every single day. I am so thankful for that because the heat and humidity here are becoming increasingly uncomfortable for me the larger I get.

That was a list of material things, I know, but I would think it is pretty obvious that I am thankful for my husband. And he is for me. He is always saying to me, “Our story is the best.” And it is pretty unbelievable. He comes from a crowded city in India, and I come from a tiny borough in Pennsylvania, and God willing, we crossed paths, so to speak, in Binghamton, New York. And now we’ve been married almost two years. He is graciously kind and considerate, a good provider, and makes me strive to be a better human all the time. He’ll be an amazing father. I am pretty sure I have said that before on here, but it’s always worth saying again.

And now I come to Little Bean, who has the hiccups as I am typing this. I consider her a miracle, not just because she’s our baby, but because we weren’t sure if or when a pregnancy would ever happen. And, lo and behold, I had already been pregnant for two weeks or so when the doctor gave me some medicine to try to get pregnant eventually. Now, every kick and punch, every hiccup is so precious to me; it’s awe-inspiring. I am so thankful to be experiencing this. And I am thankful for the emotions that run through me about this pretty much all the time, every single day. I am both excited and terrified to be a parent. What if I don’t change her diaper often enough? How will I know when she’s hungry? What if she hates me? I ask Zac often if he is nervous about being a dad. The answer – nope. So, maybe these feelings are more of a mom thing. 🙂

I suppose that’s enough of baring my feelings to you all. I am thankful that there are enough people out there who seem to enjoy this blog. When I started it, I thought it would just be family and friends, but I can see from my number stats that it’s not. Thanks for reading this, everyone. And, if you’re in the US, have a great Thanksgiving!

Back in Kerala!

I’ve been back in Trivandrum for almost three weeks now. So far, I’ve readjusted to the humidity and heat and the fact that I will never be able to do anything with my hair here besides just letting it be a poofball. And it’s great to be able to relish South Indian food again. Thank goodness the repulsion didn’t last. Speaking of food, I don’t have to cook much anymore either. My husband hired a maid/cook for me so I can just live the life of (pregnant) Reilly. And it’s a good thing there was someone here to cook for the first several days especially because I was out of commission with jet lag. I blame that on Little Bean.

And I think Lil’ Bean has grown quite a bit. At least, I hope SHE has because my stomach has ballooned over the past couple weeks. So much so that Zac will sometimes look at my stomach in concern and say, “You still have a few months to go. Are you sure it’s not going to burst?” Personally, I think she had a growth spurt because I stopped eating bacon and macaroni & cheese and started eating fresh fish, veggies, and fruits again. Thanks, Indian food! My burgeoning belly has also caused me to start waddling a bit, especially at night when I’ve just given up for the day. I feel like I’m a little pathetic looking sometimes, but it’s all worth knowing she’s growing like a weed. And she kicks like a maniac now too. I am beginning to think she rarely sleeps, or hopefully, she sleeps when I do. When she is quiet during the day, our new favorite thing to do is lightly tap or talk into my stomach until she starts kicking in response. Love it!

Zac and I haven’t done much since I’ve been back. That’s partly because we don’t have car yet (next month!), I get tired too easily, and it’s just so convenient to stay home now that we have someone doing our cooking. However, there is a lot of stuff to do in Trivandrum, and I want to see and do as much as possible before Lil’ Bean comes around. I mean, I know I’ll still be able to do things once she’s here, but I have a hard enough time hauling my own self around India. I may just want to be under house arrest with her for a month or so. Who knows? Anyway, our new favorite place to go outside our house is Veli Lake and Tourist Village and Shankumugham Beach. It’s only fifteen minutes from our house. We discovered it thanks to one of Zac’s cousins, who we took there two weeks ago. It’s simply a picnic area that has lovely gardens, boating, a kiddie park, and a floating restaurant. We loved it so much we went back this week.

Maybe starting next month, we’ll venture outside more, but right now, we’re enjoying our new home and relaxing together. And don’t worry, I’ll keep you posted on any exciting stuff we do try!

One of the many coconut trees in our yard.

BABY COCONUTS! Aren't they cute? — BABY COCONUTS! Aren’t they cute?

Temple that is just up the street from us. It was awesomely decorated for the Dussehra festival, but we didn't get any photos of that. :( — Temple that is just up the street from us. It was awesomely decorated for the Dussehra festival, but we didn’t get any photos of that. 😦

Along almost every road in India, you will see these hand painted advertisements, political announcements, etc. It's always been one of my favorite things to see here even though it's common. This sign is in Malayalam. — Along almost every road in India, you will see these hand painted advertisements, political announcements, etc. It’s always been one of my favorite things to see here even though it’s common. This sign is in Malayalam, the language of Kerala.

I love this photo. This house is HUGE and really fancy, and this stray dog parked himself on the stoop and was going to town on cleaning himself. The many dualities of India. :) — I love this photo. This house is HUGE and really fancy, and this stray dog parked himself on the stoop and was going to town cleaning himself. The many dualities of India. 🙂

Lovely scenic view on one of our evening walks. It’s even prettier when the sun is setting.

Who let the land manatee pose for this photo? ;) — Who let the land manatee pose for this photo? 😉

More of the incredible views we see each evening.

They have tons of flowers in their gardens!

Posing on the floating bridge that leads to the beach.

View looking from the beach back to the lake. There is a passage of water that connects the Arabian Sea to Veli Lake.

Don't I look like I'm not sweating? — Don’t I look like I’m not sweating?

Zac's relatives that we took to the village. — Zac’s relatives that we took to the village.

Forest-themed restaurant where we went on a date

We clean up nice :) — We clean up nice 🙂

By the way, did I happen to mention we bought a new camera? We’ve been on photo overload for the past several days!

One Week To Go

Well, I head back to India on October 1, which leaves me with one week to enjoy and soak in as much of my Pennsylvania home as I can. I’ve already said my good-byes to some, and the travel anxiety is beginning to set in. I haven’t had a bad experience flying to or from India yet, but it’s just soooooooooooooo long. And I really don’t even think about how long the flights are once I’m on the plane, but it’s the idea of it. Three six-hour (approximately) flights, trudging through security at JFK, London Heathrow, and Kuwait, and then, my personal favorite, the immigration queue once I reach Trivandrum. But it’ll be 4:30 am when I land, so I’m hoping there won’t be much of a wait. And it’ll be all so worth it when I push my luggage cart out the doors and see Zac waiting for me, slightly fretting over my whereabouts.

The good-byes have been much less painful this time around. Last time, I had no idea when I would come back, and we all didn’t know how the Skype situation would work for keeping in touch. The tears and sorrows were for nothing because, honestly, I think I keep in better touch with people from India than when I am here. I am so thankful for the time I have been able to spend here. It’s been so nice to see those who I haven’t seen in a very long time.

I was able to see some of those people yesterday at the baby shower. I had a lot of fun, and I think everyone else did too. 🙂 I went with a rubber ducky theme, and my mom’s craftiness took off and left me with a super cute shower. Little Bean made out like a bandit with adorable outfits, toys, quilts, blankets, and money that will eventually be exchanged for a crib, a car seat, baby monitors, diaper bags, and other fun baby stuff. Here are my favorite pics from the day:

I think this was one of my favorite gifts. It made me giggle.

The jelly bean jar was my mom's idea, but I did the duck and counted the jelly beans (my brother helped count too). — The jelly bean jar was my mom’s idea, but I did the duck and counted the jelly beans (my brother helped count too).

Ducky sugar cookies! We started with 80 - now there's about 8 left! — Ducky sugar cookies! We started with 80 – now there’s about 8 left!

This Bon Jovi shirt has been passed through so many children in the Serafini clan, it's unbelievable it's still in one piece. — This Bon Jovi shirt has been passed through so many children in the Serafini clan, it’s unbelievable it’s still in one piece.

I asked everyone to fill these out, and then after the shower, I strung them all together with ribbon to make a little booklet for myself. :) — I asked everyone to fill these out, and then after the shower, I strung them all together with ribbon to make a little booklet for myself. 🙂

Some were very poignant, others were downright hilarious.

1274863_742066147054_146414178_o — Mommy to be!

A bag of Hershey Kisses given to "Princess Bean," but we all know who is really going to eat them. Hint: it's me. — A bag of Hershey Kisses given to “Princess Bean,” but we all know who is really going to eat them. Hint: it’s me.

An absolutely gorgeous quilt made by my mom's friend. It has little elephants on it. — An absolutely gorgeous quilt made by my mom’s friend. It has little elephants on it.

Some of the...ahem....male guests. — Some of the…ahem….male guests.

Had to give a shout-out to the shower photographer. ;) — Had to give a shout-out to the shower photographer. 😉

The cake that was almost too pretty to eat.

It’s exciting to think that the next time I update this, I’ll be back in India. I’m totally ready!

From the Hills of PA

I have been having a great time in Pennsylvania. I’ve enjoyed a visit to Allentown, the Outhouse Races, visiting family, and eating all my fave foods. I need to put in a plug for Dushore – if you’ve never seen an outhouse race, do yourself a favor. Next August, go to Dushore Founder’s Day and witness the spectacle that is racing outdoor toilets.

I love it, which is funny because I hate sports.

I have a little less than a month left here, and I still have some things to get done, plus go to my baby shower. As much as I will miss being here, I am so excited to see Zac again. And I’m also pretty excited for Part II of Living in India, especially now that we’re having A BABY GIRL!!!!

"Daddy's Little Angel" — “Daddy’s Little Angel”

I just found out today that Baby Bean is a girl, and she has the cutest buttcheeks ever! And I’m gonna try not to brag, but I totally had a feeling that she was a girl. No idea why I had that notion – all the “myths” about how I’m carrying should have pointed to a boy – I haven’t gained too much weight so far, and I’m carrying very low. So low that it seems like I’m running for the bathroom every 30 minutes.

I feel like I have learned things about her already, mostly about her movements. She likes to party the most while I’m getting ready for bed and when I get up in the morning. She also responds to The Beach Boys’ music. And only them. I listen to all kinds of stuff, but I only get kicks when I play “California Girls” or “Good Vibrations.” I haven’t figured out if that means anything, or if it’s just a coincidence. And another thing – I think she really responds to my stress levels. One night, about a week ago, I got really upset about something, and she was bouncing around for the rest of the night.

You know, I was going to be one of those women who tried not to read too much about pregnancy stuff, but that didn’t work out at all. I made some decisions easily, like breastfeeding and cloth diapers, but others have been a real pain. Like where is the baby going to sleep? I have Western culture telling me to get the baby into her own room AS SOON AS POSSIBLE, but then I have Eastern culture telling me to let the baby sleep in our room for as long as needed – when she needs her own room, it’ll work out. Another problem – to have an epidural or not. I thought at the beginning that I was going to have an epidural, no questions asked, but yeah, then I started reading about it. Do I really want to risk the side effects of a spinal headache, slowed labor, needing a catheter? But then again, I want to be able to somewhat enjoy the labor and not be in so much pain that I want to throw myself out the hospital window. Perhaps I’ll make the decision that day – I don’t think they have silly things like birth plans in India.

Yep...these are our baby's cloth diapers. Cute, no? — Yep…these are our baby’s cloth diapers. Cute, no?

I have this image in my mind of Zac, Bean, and me all cuddling together on our bed. I know that’s not going to be the complete reality – she’ll scream and cry, wake us a million times during the night, poop and pee all the time, eat all the time, and cry some more. But who cares? What matters most to me is that image in my mind. It’s so sweet that sometimes when I think about it I’m almost moved to tears. I know that those moments will make all the times I am horrendously sleep-deprived worth it. This is going to be the greatest adventure. I really cannot wait for her to arrive.

Thiruvananthapuram – Our New Home

I suppose it’s time to post an update? These last few weeks have been pretty much a whirlwind. We have been trying to get things in order for my trip (successfully!), trying to find a place to live (another success!), desperately finding a new doctor for me and Little Bean (done and done!), and squeezing in one or two fun things before I leave (also, success!). I figured I’ll post my highlights of the new city, for us, so far.

The IISER Trivandrum Guesthouse

Our room may not be fancy at this place, but it has air conditioning, hot water, free wi-fi, our room gets cleaned a couple times a week, and we get three square meals a day. And Shashi, the cook/caretaker, has somehow managed to rekindle my appreciation for Indian food. I don’t know how he did it because I was still hating it all when we moved down here. EVERYTHING he makes tastes good, even if it looks gross to me. God bless him, for real. It also helps that we get to veg out three times a day on this nice balcony.

And here’s our room:

We’re allowed to stay for a month, which has turned into the biggest blessing of all, because then we were able to focus a lot of time on finding a place to live, and that brings me to my next highlight.

Our New Home

Just look at this place.

We’ll be living on the top floor, which has three bedrooms, a huge living room, two bathrooms, a dining room, and a lovely kitchen. I don’t know how new the whole place is, but the owner (who lives on the bottom floor with his family) is just finishing up our place. It’s in such a good location too. This was maybe the second or third place we looked at, and I think Zac and I both knew when we saw it that we weren’t really going to consider any place else (unless it was exceptional).

Thiruvananthapuram Zoo

This was our fun outing. Zac’s cousin, Arun, did us a gracious favor by taking us to the zoo. The zoo is apparently one of the oldest in India, and it is housed in the same complex as the Napier Museum, which we didn’t get to go to, but the building itself was lovely. The zoo was much larger than I expected, and it housed a lot of animals. The highlight was a lioness chowing down on her dinner; the biggest disappointment was the king cobra – we could barely see it through the bars on its cage. Here are some of the best pics.

Seal of Kerala in the front, Napier museum in the back

A one-horned rhino with no horn. I'm just hoping it was a rescue. — A one-horned rhino with no horn. I’m just hoping it was a rescue.

Unfortunately, since our visit there, I have read in the newspaper that the baby hippo was accidentally stepped on and killed by its mother, and two of the leopard cubs died of a virus. So sad. 😦

The Indian Coffee House

So, the Indian Coffee House is a chain of, you guessed it, coffee houses that was started pre-independence. The earliest one was opened in 1936 in Bombay. We stopped at one yesterday (because preggo was hungry) in the late afternoon. Let me tell you, they had the best masala dosa I have ever had.

So, if you’re visiting India on a budget and need a clean, cheap place to eat, PICK HERE. There’s about 400 of them across India. You won’t be disappointed.

And the biggest highlight of our move so far…

Credence Hospital and My Second Ultrasound

I’m going to be honest – Credence Hospital was my second choice for a place to see an obstetrician and deliver the baby. We went to the Kerala Institute of Medical Sciences (KIMS) first because we had heard that was the best hospital in Kerala. Well, it was super, super crowded both times we went, which is saying something because MIMS was regularly crowded as well. We both decided the crowds were something neither of us wanted to deal with, so I got online to find a different hospital. I discovered Credence and the chief obstetrician Dr. Santhamma Mathew, who, by the way, just won some 2013 Times of India health icon award. Yeah, she’s a big deal.

The outside and inside of Credence isn’t as nice and sparkling new as KIMS, but the caring and compassion of everyone I have dealt with so far surpasses any concern about a few stains on the wall. Dr. Mathew is great – she’s easy to talk to, and when I saw her today (in a room next to the big delivery room), she had already assisted in five births this morning. FIVE. And I saw her around 10:30 am! FIVE. And she was just as cool as a cucumber. She went over my ultrasound and my chart and gave me the total okay to go to the US. Woo! One more thing, as I was waiting next to the delivery room to see the doctor, I heard a woman in the midst of labor. Yeah, that wasn’t scary at all….

I think my favorite thing so far about Credence was the radiologist who did my ultrasound today. He was so jolly and cheerful, and he showed me everything! Our baby’s little face (eyes, nose, and mouth!), the little heart and heartbeat (“Ohhhh, the heart is beating so nicely” were his exact words), little fingers and hands, little spinal column, little legs – he went over it all and explained it step by step, which was a far cry from my first ultrasound at MIMS, where I didn’t know what was going on at all. And while he was showing me the baby, the baby let out a hiccup, floated to the top of the screen and then slowly floated back down. I had promised myself to try not to be a dork this time, but a tear or two leaked out as I watching.

This is the last time I’ll update, most likely, until after I return from the US. Unless something super exciting happens there, but I really just plan on eating. 🙂