Travel – An American in Kerala

Inherited Scripts: the Search for “India Syndrome,” Part 1 of 3

What Is India Syndrome?

Why do some Western travelers come to India seeking spiritual transformation, only to vanish, sometimes without a trace?

Some say these disappearances are the result of “India Syndrome.”

Don’t be mistaken. “India Syndrome” isn’t a medical diagnosis. The phrase was coined by French psychiatrist Régis Airault, who worked with embassy staff treating foreigners in India suffering sudden psychological breakdowns. Symptoms are said to include disorientation, delusion, spiritual obsession, and the urge to detach from society, often triggered, Airault suggested, by travel in the subcontinent.

The phrase raises all kinds of red flags for me. It feels too vague, even too condescending. Is it a genuine phenomenon, or just an Orientalist label slapped onto culture shock and untreated mental illness in an unfamiliar culture?

The Disappearance of Justin Shetler

I had read about India Syndrome in a Guardian article titled ‘Travelers who were lost forever’: why tourists experience ‘India syndrome,’ but most of those written about made it out of their psychological breaks just fine. I didn’t realize how serious these experiences could be until I read about Justin Alexander Shetler.

He was an American adventurer, young and smart, who had traveled widely and documented his spiritual journey with real thoughtfulness. In 2016, he vanished in the Parvati Valley after setting off on a pilgrimage with a sadhu. His final Instagram post read:

If I don’t come back, don’t look for me.

He had come to India seeking something: transcendence, transformation, detachment from the self. And then he disappeared, leaving behind a swirl of grief and speculation. Was it a tragic accident? A spiritual quest gone too far? Or was he consumed by the story of India he was already writing?

Stories like his collide with a country already carrying centuries of other people’s projections. To talk about India Syndrome without talking about that projection, about Orientalism, is to miss the bigger picture.

The Shadow Of Orientalism

India Syndrome isn’t new. It’s the latest chapter in a story Edward Said called Orientalism: the West’s longstanding habit of casting “the East” as its mystical opposite. India, in this fantasy, is no longer a country; it’s a metaphor. A place to lose yourself, find yourself, or (in Shetler’s case) vanish trying.

And so the idea of India that travelers bring is often already mythic. It’s been passed down through yoga studios, self‑help books, and colonial literature: India as a spiritual testing ground, a mirror, a maze. But when reality refuses to match the fantasy, the fallout can be intense.

Book Cover of the First Edition of Orientalism by Edward Said. https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?curid=49638266

A Certain Privilege

Who, exactly, gets to “lose themselves” in India?

More often than not, it’s white, educated Westerners with the freedom and the resources to wander. The ones who can afford to drop out for a few months, go on retreat, or disappear into the mountains. Choosing India as the backdrop for personal transformation is, in many ways, a consumer decision.

Of course, not every traveler arrives clutching a copy of Eat, Pray, Love, but it’s rare to meet a foreigner completely free of those expectations. The “spiritual East” is so deeply embedded in Western imagination that even those who reject the clichés still bring crumbs of it with them.

There’s a certain privilege in being able to fall apart and then be found. When travelers go missing, embassies get involved. Families launch global searches. Articles are written.

It’s clear to see: When a Western traveler vanishes, it’s a mystery. When an Indian pilgrim goes missing, it’s a statistic. The heartbreak is equal, but the news coverage is not.

Meanwhile, most local voices, such as guides, sadhus, neighbors, police, and even Indian spiritual seekers, rarely appear in the narrative except as background figures. India becomes a stage, not a speaking role.

That raises uncomfortable questions: Where’s the line between spiritual curiosity and exoticism? Between seeking meaning and expecting a place to hand it to you? And what does it mean that so many of these stories treat Indian traditions as if they exist solely for foreigners?

I don’t have neat answers. But I have crossed paths with travelers who seemed to be drifting far from reality.

Not a Mirror, Not a Maze, Just a Country

One early morning, at the front gate of the Dhikala zone in Jim Corbett National Park, Uttarakhand, I noticed a white man leaning against a tree.

At first, I thought he might be a tourist from a nearby resort. But the closer I looked, the less sense that made. His cycle was old and battered. A plastic jug of murky liquid hung from one handlebar. A grimy plastic bag swung from the other. He wasn’t wearing a shirt or shoes.

He spoke to the guards for several minutes, then got his cycle and rode off toward town.
“What’s that about?” I asked my husband.
“That guy wants to ride his cycle through the park,” he said. “He’s riding it all the way to Rishikesh.”

The guards laughed. Not cruelly, but with the familiarity of people who had seen something like this before. I don’t know if he was a regular, a wanderer, or simply someone too deep in his own creation of India. The kind of figure whose story would be recounted as a quest, while a local doing the same might be dismissed as desperate or unwell.

But that’s the thing about India Syndrome: it’s never about the person who’s actually unwell. It’s about the stories we tell to explain them. A local man cycling barefoot through tiger territory would be called mad or poor. A white man doing the same becomes a seeker, a mystic, or a cautionary tale.

India itself doesn’t cause these breakdowns. But something else does: ages of Western fantasies that have whispered to generations of seekers:

Welcome to India: the cure for whatever you think is missing in your soul.

Up Next: Part 2 – Who wrote that mythical script, and why do we keep performing it?

The Call of the Wild: Jim Corbett National Park

The sambar deer belted out its alarm call, staring into the treeline across the dried-up river bed. Safely perched atop the cliff in our gypsy, we watched the tensed animal as it decided how to avoid a terrible fate.

“There’s a tiger in there,” both our driver and guide agreed. But it wasn’t coming out.

Five trips into the Dhela and Jhirna zones at Jim Corbett National Park, we had seen so many other amazing animals, but the tiger remained elusive. Our gypsy driver, Ravi Kashyap, and park guide, Chandan Singh Negi, told us that our best option was to wait on the cliff and see what happened. They were certain a tiger was resting just beyond our line of sight. Whether it would decide to come out was another thing.

Our fifth safari seemed to be on the hottest afternoon. As we waited in sweltering heat, my clothing soaked through with sweat, and my scalped itched under my broad-rimmed hat. Even though I had layered on sunscreen, I could feel the sun burning the skin on my arms.

I looked at my watch. Hardly fifteen minutes had passed. “Shouldn’t be much longer,” I thought. “That tiger must be thirsty in this heat.”

An hour later, the deer still milled about in its corner of the river bed, not moving beyond a perceived imaginary line. No further signs of the tiger. I was losing hope. The safari timing would be over soon.

A rhesus macaque in a nearby tree suddenly screeched in alarm. We watched as it stared in the same area as the deer had looked, and it hissed, screeched, and shook the branches. Other macaques soon followed. But after a few minutes, the excitement died down and things went back to normal.

I watched the treeline. Still no tiger. I started watching the birds in the trees surrounding our vehicle. How long would we sit here? At what point do you give up? Is it worth-

“Tiger, tiger!!!” our guide hissed, pointing at the riverbed. I stood up, turned on my camera, and started snapping photos before I even saw her. And there she was.

Pretty sure I kept muttering, “What a beautiful animal. Gorgeous. Stunning.”

The tiger strode out of the treeline with what I can only describe as pure confidence and majesty. I know I’m personifying, but cut me a break. She glanced at the deer that cowered a short distance from her, but she didn’t want a meal at the moment. She needed a cool-down.

Since moving to India, I’ve had a handful of experiences that have felt surreal. I feel like I’m watching myself go through the moment. I get gooseflesh, and a warmth blooms in my chest. Like, who am I to see these things? Who am I to stand in front of the Taj Mahal? Or to touch the bullet-ridden walls at Jallianwala Bagh? Or to watch a Bengal tigress enjoy the cool water on a hot afternoon?

You know what? I’ll share a few more photos before I keep writing. She’s so magnificent and terrifying.

“What’s that noise?”

While I took video of the tiger, a great hornbill soared overhead, and by pure luck, I got them both in the same video. We didn’t see another tiger full-on during our remaining safari, but we were as excited to see “the tiger of the skies” twice. The great hornbill looks like it’s straight out of prehistoric times.

Each animal we saw at Jim Corbett National Park was given equal importance. From tigers and elephants to the smallest birds, our driver and guide showcased them all. In fact, our driver, Ravi, had eagle-eyes and spotted most animals and birds well before we could.

During our stay, I stumbled on a negative comment on social media about Jim Corbett National Park. The person complained the visit was a waste of time for her and her young son. They didn’t see any animals. Zoos are so much better. I told Zac when I read the comment to him that I wanted to share it here and use it as a teachable moment.

First, what the comment said is patently untrue. There are animals everywhere in Jim Corbett National Park. The forest teems with life. You can see it, hear it, and even smell it.

The reserve forest is thriving. We saw huge termite mounds up and down the dirt roads we traveled on. We heard sloth bears, barking deer, and birds in surround sound. And more than once, we smelled the putrid scent of death – nature returning an animal back to the earth.

Second, the above being said, if you go on only one safari, your chances of seeing the big guys (elephants, tigers, sloth bear) are small. Heck, we went on six and didn’t see a tiger until the fifth!

Jim Corbett National Park is a thick, deciduous reserve, and it is difficult to spot animals. The more often you go, the more likely an animal will cross your path. Remember, these are wild animals. They don’t exist for our entertainment. You need to be willing to put in the work and patience to appreciate these animals in their habitats.

And third, don’t take small children on these long safaris. I saw people with infants and toddlers in the hot sun, driving around on bumpy, forest roads. Please, don’t do it. Wait until they’re older, and they can appreciate what they’re experiencing.

We wanted to take Evelyn on safari for years. We are so glad we waited until she was older.

The morning rides were my favorite, even though it was too early for coffee. With the fresh cold air whipping through my hair, watching the open fields and expanse of trees, I forgot I was in India.

Instead, I was seven years old, riding with my dad in his pick-up truck through the dirt roads of Sullivan County, Pennsylvania, searching for white-tailed deer and black bear.

I’m not sure if it was even a real memory. But for a few seconds, my two homes, different in so many ways, were tied together in my heart. And that’s something precious I will always remember.

So, if you love and appreciate wildlife, visiting the oldest tiger reserve in India is worth every rupee. But you need to put in the work. Book a few safaris. Absorb everything you see. Breathe it in. Listen to your surroundings. Life is everywhere.

If you’re interested in visiting Jim Corbett National Park and staying for a few days, check out my review of The Golden Tusk, the resort where we stayed.

The Golden Tusk at Jim Corbett National Park

For our tenth wedding anniversary and Evelyn’s eighth birthday, we wanted to explore somewhere new. Something that would be memorable for our little family of three. With record-breaking heat waves rolling through India, that left us with few choices. After deliberating for weeks, we settled on Uttarakhand – Jim Corbett National Park, Rishikesh, and Mussoorie.

After searching for decent travel agents, we found one who told us most resorts are far away from Jim Corbett National Park. Since we were planning on six safaris in four days, we wanted as little extra travel as possible. So, our agent suggested we stay at The Golden Tusk, which is very close to Corbett’s Dhela and Jhirna Zones.

We booked a three-night package with all meals included. We even tacked on a fourth night to give ourselves some breathing room. After arriving at Pantnagar airport, we drove for three hours to Village Dhela.

As we approached Dhela, I noticed sprawling fields replacing stocky buildings, and swaying trees and snorting buffalo replacing restaurants and people. Already, I was in love.

Flora surrounded us as soon as we entered the gates of The Golden Tusk. We felt the outside world wave goodbye as we made our way to reception.

Overhead view of The Golden Tusk — An overhead view of The Golden Tusk

Upon entering reception, Ms. Arti greeted us and, for our four-day stay, ensured we had the best stay. A staff member served us burans juice, the traditional welcome drink of Uttarakhand. After traveling in the heat all day, we gulped it down and flopped on the plush reception couches.

Outside reception area at The Golden Tusk

Initially, we had booked all our nights in the Nature View Room. But, while we checked-in, Mr. Manoj Bachketi, the resort manager, said he was upgrading us to a Corbett Suite for our entire stay. What a way to celebrate!

Nature walkway from reception to the resort room at The Golden Tusk

Ms. Arti escorted us to our suite. On the way, we admired the low-hanging trees, flowers, and narrow waterways that lined the way. Evelyn was thrilled when a red-wattled lapwing tottered across our path.

Our suite was everything we hoped for: luxurious, clean, and comfortable. The bedroom had sliding doors that opened to a balcony, overlooking the main lawn and the pool. In short, it was the perfect room to relax in after each safari.

Living space in the Corbett Suite at The Golden Tusk

Balcony of the Corbett Suite at The Golden Tusk

We knew our safaris would consume most of our time there. So we explored the property during our first evening and morning. We arrived from our journey in time to enjoy the afternoon tea served in the lawn. The chai and bread pakoras gave us much-needed energy for the evening.

Evelyn begged to go to the kids’ outdoor activities. She tested out the Burma bridge, the commando net, and the trampoline. The resort houses more adventurous activities like wall-climbing, ladder climbing, and zip-lining. All super exciting, but they were a bit too much for our careful daughter. You can also rent bicycles and adventure into the village.

The next morning, I visited The Golden Flower Spa (my Mother’s Day gift) and got a massage. Maya, my massage therapist, prodded the tension out of my joints and muscles, and I felt like a new person after I left.

The spa, The Golden Flower, at The Golden Tusk — Relaxation and renewal!

The Golden Tusk coordinates different events each evening for their guests, which makes it unique. During our stay, they organized a jungle grilling session with live music (cancelled due to a wicked storm that ripped through), a flutist on the main lawn, and a wildlife film for kiddos.

This leads me to the food at The Golden Tusk. We met Mr. Romesh Sethi, head of Food and Beverage. Whatever he is doing to run the restaurants there, I hope he keeps doing it. The variety and taste of the food is fantastic.

For a veg food lover like me, I had countless options of dishes like karela and gobi masalas, gatta curry, veg biryani, and fresh salads. Whereas my purely carnivore husband and daughter monopolized the non-veg section, which had dishes like laal maas, mutton rogan josh, and chicken lababdar. We parked ourselves in front of the live kitchen, where they doled out constant fresh, hot tandoori rotis on request. I’m craving the food even now!

I know I’ve mentioned a few staff members in this post, but every employee at The Golden Tusk deserves recognition. Their friendliness, urgency to solve any issues, and constant hard work are the foundations of this resort. An example of what I mean: Evelyn loves to live in the pool at hotels and resorts. I’m always on the fence about it because I never know how often they’re cleaned. Here, I didn’t have to worry at all. More than once a day, I saw people cleaning out the pools to keep them in top shape.

We only regret not staying at The Golden Tusk for our week-long vacation. I felt sad the day we left. During this trip, we learned that we are not frenetic, fast-paced travelers. We enjoy slow holidays, where we savor each moment for what it is, not worrying about what is coming next. And that’s exactly what this resort offers – an oasis from India’s chaotic urban centers.

overhead view of The Golden Tusk with mountains in the background — An oasis in the wilderness!

As for our safaris at Jim Corbett National Park, there’s a separate blog post in the making. What an experience!

Feeling At Home At The Raviz

When I tell people I have lived in India since 2012, I get one of two reactions – the first type: “Oh wow! That’s such a once in a lifetime experience!” and the other – “Yiiiiiiikes. Better you than me!” Yes, yes, it is better that it’s me because I get to go fun places like this:

14542519_10100167040467084_4811483625435784384_o — The resort.

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14566476_10100167038091844_584413944407786107_o — Reception

In October 2016, before Evelyn and I left for our long visit to Pennsylvania, I convinced Zac that we should take a short family getaway. Just the three of us, minimal distractions.

We didn’t want to go far because traveling by car here is not easy. So after searching within a 100 km radius (side note – five years in, I am still not used to the metric system), we settled on Ashtamudi Lake in Kollam. More importantly, I had found an excellent deal with The Raviz, a five-star resort on the lake itself. We went, got a free room upgrade, and took an awesome morning houseboat ride. Also, I used the amazing jacuzzi tub in our bathroom. I mean, look at this place –

14615591_10100167037557914_3649668580780148467_o

14468542_10100167037498034_6171214926985705198_o — The view from our room.

Fast forward to August 2017, I noticed the Raviz, on their Facebook page, offering a new membership card. Since we loved our initial stay so much, I sent the page to my husband, suggesting we join.

We decided on the black membership. It gave us vouchers that included free massages, a complimentary night stay, and a free upgrade to a suite.

The vouchers aren’t the only perks – showing up with the card itself is worth something. A member gets a flat 20 percent off rooms and up to 50 percent off food and 15 percent off adult beverages.

For Evelyn’s fourth birthday and our sixth wedding anniversary, we decided to use our Priviliz membership and booked a room for two nights at the Ashtamudi resort.

As before, they rolled out the red carpet with welcome drinks and tikka. We had previously called to use two of our vouchers – a free 1 kg birthday cake and a free bottle of wine – and they had it all set up for us.

We also used our voucher to upgrade to their Royal Suite. Hands down, the most gorgeous and spacious room I have ever stayed in.

The large windows overlook the lake. I’ve been watching the houseboats float by, rippling the lake water, with coconut trees looming in the background.

Our suite has a huge sitting room, a dining area, a big bedroom, and one and a half bathrooms.

26756702_10100386509294794_8575491677840474112_n — Our bedroom

26841321_10100386509194994_3272088970095230976_n — The dining area and sitting area

26910091_10100386508970444_5865551473672192000_n — The master bath

26904460_10100386509484414_4113512681154750826_n — View of the rest of the resort from our balcony

26734427_10100386509519344_337618042997424200_n — View of the lake from our balcony

14566422_10100167038106814_5546147199133277115_o — Ready for our morning houseboat ride!

14567414_10100167039334354_8906430874016815697_o — More views from the houseboat ride.

14567561_10100167039678664_2040300808549182243_o — More views from the houseboat ride.

And the staff here at the resort are accommodating and caring, and they made us feel welcomed both times we’ve visited. They gave us the upgrade to the suite with no questions asked or stalling.

The servers and managers in Keraleeyam, the resort’s main restaurant, occupied and cared for Evelyn while Zac and I shoveled in the yummy Kerala-style, North Indian, and international cuisine. For Evelyn’s birthday, they brought out the cake with enough pomp to please a four year old and gave her a small gift.

Zac and I decided to get some Ayurvedic treatments done during our stay. We both chose the Tanusree treatment, which lasts about two hours. It involves a traditional Ayurvedic head massage, body massage, green gram scrub, red sandalwood body pack, and steam. Because it involves so much, the brochure said the spa required 12 hours notice. But when we asked about that, they assured it was no problem, and got me in for the first treatment right away.

IMG_20180119_115532 — My spa room….with a spectacular view that I forgot to take a photo of.

And, man oh man, my experience was fantastic. If you’ve never had an Ayurvedic experience before, they can be awkward. You’re vulnerable in many ways. Your therapist sometimes speaks only basic English, so you’re both too shy to for conversation. Well – that awkwardness was shattered this time around. My therapist made me belly-laugh and handed out compliments left and right, with my favorite being the following:

Therapist – “Madam is how old?”
Me – “I’m 33.”
Therapist – *gasps like I’ve offended her* “MADAM. I thought you were 26!”

I was like, can I call you up any time I need some flattery, please? But I came out of that room feeling like I had all my muscles and nerves unwound from tight coils. My skin felt baby soft (thanks to the green gram and sandalwood). Raviz’s Favourite Kerala Spa is highly, highly recommended.

IMG_20180119_174049 — View of the resort from our pedal boat

IMG_20180119_173724 — A houseboat in the distance on the lake

The Raviz treats all their guests well. They give freebies to everyone. You get a 30-minute houseboat ride across the lake, free evening tea and snacks, and a free cultural program before dinner. Both times we were there, a Bharatanatyam dancer performed in the reception area. So worth every cent we pay. I’m already looking forward to our visit next time!

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Two Years Ago: Amritsar and The Golden Temple

I am such a slacker when it comes to writing about these major things that I’ve seen in India. I’m still trying to piece together an entry on the Taj Mahal, and that was almost a year ago. So, it’s fitting that on my “On This Day” memories on Facebook, I was inundated with photos of our day spent exploring Amritsar. This is really a trip down memory lane for me.

The Golden Temple’s official name is “Sri Harmandir Sahib,” and it’s the holiest gurdwara for Sikhs. The temple itself is surrounded by a lake, which is also considered to be holy. To enter the temple’s complex, a person must remove her shoes and wash her feet and cover her hair (this goes for both men, women, and children alike). I could blather on and on about the temple and its surroundings and recite its history, but I really just want to share photos of our day there, so I recommend checking out this and this. Here are my two favorite facts about the temple:

“The construction of Harmandir Sahib was intended to build a place of worship for men and women from all walks of life and all religions to come and worship God equally. Accordingly, as a gesture of this non-sectarian universalness of Sikhism, Guru Arjan had specially invited Muslim Sufi saint, Hazrat Mian Mir to lay the foundation stone of the Harmandir Sahib. The four entrances (representing the four directions) to get into the Harmandir Sahib also symbolise the openness of the Sikhs towards all people and religions. Over 100,000 people visit the holy shrine daily for worship, and also partake jointly in the free community kitchen and meal (Langar) regardless of any distinctions, a tradition that is a hallmark of all Sikh Gurdwaras.”

And:

“Harmandir Sahib is [the home] of the world’s largest soup kitchen. According to “Croatian Times” [it] can serve free food for up to 100,000 – 300,000 people every day. At the Langar (Kitchen), food is served to all visitors regardless of faith, religion, or background. Vegetarian food is often served to ensure that all people, even those with dietary restrictions, can eat together as equals.”

Pretty amazing, huh? Now time for pics!

After our visit to the Golden Temple, we stopped by Jallianwala Bagh, and if you’ve ever seen the film “Gandhi,” then you know of its significance. I would say if you know anything about history, you should know about it too, but I didn’t. My history classes glanced right over British colonialism in India and never delved into studying the Amritsar massacre. The whole event is horrifying. On Sunday, April 13, 1919, some sorry-excuse-for-a-human-being named Colonel Reginald Dyer, who had imposed a curfew and a ban on protests in the city of Amritsar, decided that all the people who were disobeying his hardly known order deserved to be shot at. He ordered troops to follow him to the park, where exits were blocked without warning, and shots were fired for ten minutes straight into the crowd of about 20,000 people. A cease-fire was called only after running out of ammo. People were not only killed by the bullets, but they also stampeded each other trying to escape, and over 100 people (women and children included) jumped into the well that was in the center of the park. It was terribly sobering to touch the bullet holes still preserved in the walls and to look down into the endless blackness of the well. Words cannot do it justice.

Topiaries of the soldiers

10801824_875544680004_1539954525245526391_n — The monument

The Martyrs’ Well – 120 bodies, including women and children, were recovered from it.

Where Is the Time Going? AKA Why I’m a Terrible Housewife

Oh my word, I haven’t written since when….May? I see over the past 4 months or so, I’ve started three posts and never finished any. I just haven’t had time or the desire, honestly. Haven’t really had the time because of baby, but I also had the bright idea to fire our maid to save us money (and also because she stole some things). WHAT the hell was I thinking? I could barely take care of my musty old apartment in Johnson City, NY. In fact, I’m sure my parents will tell you, I could barely take care of my own room when I lived with them. And also – THIS IS INDIA where life, in general, is about five times more difficult than in the United States. And I’m a spoiled white lady – why did I think I could handle it with a baby on top of it? I’m a complete domestic failure! I skip sweeping for one day, and you should see the amount of dirt and bugs that show up. It’s unreal. And I can’t figure out why I’m so bad at it – there’s not all that much work to do. We have a smaller apartment. Is it because I didn’t have any practice with it before and after Evelyn was born? Is it because I’m just naturally messy and lazy, so it’s going to be a struggle forever? Because I totally thought I could do all the housework, the cooking, take care of Evelyn, maybe throw in a workout and once in a while, a blog entry. Yeah, I really thought that. And then the other day, “Sex and the City 2” was on, and it was a scene with two of the women (sorry, I don’t know their names) taking swigs from their cocktails while confessing things like “Being a mom is soooo hard! And it’s even harder without help!” And I am so ashamed to admit that I nodded in agreement. The thing is I know there are plenty of women who can handle it. My mom did, and she had a full time job then too. I am just not one of those women, at least not in India. It’s already tough enough living in a non-Western culture. So about two or three weeks ago, after caring for a sick hubby and baby and letting the house go to pot, I cried to my hubby and told him to hire a new maid. There’s going to come a time when I won’t be able to have a maid anymore, so I’m going to try and enjoy the help while I can.

And I haven’t really had a desire to write anything because how much can I write about parenting that hasn’t been said? I had started a post about differences between US and Indian parenting, from my perspective, but it was really just turning into me complaining about the aspects of US parenting that I felt were too cold and scientific and complaining about the aspects of Indian parenting that I felt were too based on old wives’ tales and superstitions. So I’ve decided to wait to write that post until I’m maybe a little less….ummm….emotional. Also – I’ve been soooo tired forever. Whoever said babies start sleeping longer once they’re on solids was a liar. Evelyn wakes more frequently now than she ever did. My baby went backwards – slept awesome in the beginning, not so much now.

That being said, failed housewife or not, I love being a mom. I think I have written something similar in every blog post since she was born. But it gets truer all the time. Evelyn is so much fun. As I am writing this, I have to keep grabbing hold of her diaper so she doesn’t somersault off her blankets and bonk her head on the tile floor, which she’s done a few times. She laughs hysterically at clothes pins and our terrace lamp post, waves hello and goodbye, loves to eat chicken and bananas and toast, wants to maul my husband’s mathematics books whenever she gets the chance, bounces up and down when “All About That Bass” is playing, and smiles and laughs when she looks at photos of herself. She’s becoming more of a person right before my eyes. For the last week or so, it feels like every night, when my husband and I are in the bedroom watching her sleep, one of us always says to other, “She is such a sweet baby.” I am so impressed with her. And I am pretty impressed with myself, quite frankly. I have learned how to master several tasks using only one hand and a baby in the other- cooking pretty much anything, loading and unloading the washing machine, carrying the laundry to the terrace to dry, showering, washing my face, brushing my teeth, sweeping the floor. I’ve also done some things that I’m sure I would be scolded for. Do I let her chew on the TV remote so I can drink my first cup of coffee in peace in the morning? ABSOLUTELY. Let her press buttons on my cellphone so I can get dressed in the morning? YES.

And I’ve been getting very homesick lately. It’s going on a year since I came back to India, and I will be going to the US at the end of March 2015. My dear husband is keeping a countdown for me, so I know there’s six months left. It’ll go by so fast, I know, and once I’m there, I’ll miss my husband terribly. But it’s little things that help cure my homesickness while I’m here. Like, we went out to eat at a European style cafe this weekend, and they were playing classic rock. I rocked out to Carly Simon’s “You’re So Vain.” And, this was my favorite thing about the whole place, they served me iced tea in a tiny mason jar. It was the best thing and totally what I needed. That’ll have to hold me over until I go home where I’ve made my mom save ridiculous recipes like “buffalo chicken lasagna” and “s’mores pizza rollups.” I’ve also requested her to buy and save as many pumpkin flavored foods as she can. And I plan on eating bacon EVERY SINGLE MORNING and taking Evelyn outside to toddle around my parents’ yard EVERY SINGLE DAY. Maybe all day. Because I can. Yes, I’m excited to go home for a visit, but at the same time, I want this year to slow the heck down. Evelyn will be well over a year old when I take her. I’m not ready for that! So for as much as I am looking forward to my trip home I do not want to wish this time away. It’s such an awesome privilege to be her mother. And, for as much as perhaps I’ve complained (?) in this post, it’s such a privilege to have this experience here in India, sharing it with my husband and Evelyn, in all its frustrating (at times) glory. I wouldn’t change a thing….except maybe I wouldn’t have fired our maid. 😉

Hmmm...what is that delicious thing you're drinking, Mom? — Hmmm…what is that delicious thing you’re drinking, Mom?

We Have A New US Citizen in the Family

Never underestimate your baby. Or would it be overestimate? Either way, I thought for sure after we were done with our little jaunt to Chennai I would have a load of tales about what an absolute nightmare it is to fly with a small baby (almost four months to be exact). My husband and I were preparing ourselves for the worst; we even discussed it before bedtime in the days preceding the flight. “She’s going to scream the whole time, you know.” “If she cries on this flight, imagine a longer one.” Cue the shudders. And then those two days came and went, and now I have sat down to write this, and I realized something. I have nothing to say about it. It was completely uneventful. I packed a gazillion diapers in the carry-on because I thought for sure she would have a huge poop blowout even though it was only an hour long flight. Didn’t happen. Thought she would scream and cry in the hotel room because it wasn’t home. Didn’t happen. Thought she would be miserable during our dinner out with Zac’s cousins. She was only a little miserable. Thought she would cause a ruckus at the US Embassy. She only caused a little ruckus until a nice lady pointed me in the direction of the nursing room. So, yeah, here’s another realization: We have a good baby. She put up with a lot of crap for those two days. Having to be covered while she’s eating, sleeping in a strange bed, waiting in the hot and humid Chennai weather because Mommy and Daddy went to wrong entrance first at the Embassy, having people, a lot of them, she doesn’t know come up and touch her. Or maybe that last one just made me feel weird.

The whole reason we went to Chennai was to get Evelyn’s US Citizenship, and that went off without a hitch too. I don’t know what US Embassies are like in other countries, but this one was impressive, and I’m not sure in a good way. It had high prison-like walls with a spiked fence on top of them. Indian security EVERYWHERE outside. Road blockades so people can’t park in front of the embassy. And in front of the blockades was curled barbed wire. There are two entrances, one for Indians and one for Americans. Zac’s cousins had warned us about the Indian entrance, telling us about the incredibly long queue and the people waiting in the heat and the sun. When we reached the embassy that morning at 8:30 am, there was already a long line of people waiting for their morning appointments, wearing their Sunday best and completely and totally soaked with sweat. They don’t have any shade to hide under; we don’t even provide them with some cheap chairs to sit on. I felt awful for those people. And then I felt worse once we got to the American entrance because there was plenty of shade on that side and several chairs.

They ushered us through security – I had packed three toys for Evelyn and was only allowed one. Actual words from the Indian security guy: “Do you really need all these?” By this time, I had a hungry, screaming baby, so when we entered the American Citizen Services office, I immediately received sympathetic looks from all the women, both American and Indian, behind the windows (everyone in there is behind walls and windows). I met a sweet little boy named Tarun, who loved dinosaurs and coloring. We discussed both of these at length. He told me his fave dino is the Spinosaurus; I told him mine is the Brachiosaurus. I asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up; he said “a dino specialist.” He showed me all the crayons he brought, and I asked him his fave color; he pointed to black. I told him my favorite is purple, and he looked at me with the saddest eyes ever and said, “I left the purple one at home.” Meanwhile, during all this, my poor husband was the one who straightening out the paperwork with one of the consulate workers.

I had felt both over-prepared and under-prepared for this whole thing. I had to prove I was physically present in the United States for at least five years, two of which had to be after I was sixteen. Well, everybody who knows me knows that I NEVER left the country until I went to India to be married (unless you count the time I spent 45 minutes in Quebec looking for a place to eat….long story).

Throwback Thursday/Flashback Friday/Sweet Memory Sunday? From our wedding in India. — Throwback Thursday/Flashback Friday/Magical Memory Monday? From our wedding in India.

They had asked for originals of all documents and paperwork, and we had originals for most things except for the extra proof of my presence in the US – my tax returns. I was soooooo worried about this. I was also worried that they weren’t going to believe Evelyn was ours, and that our marriage was a sham, so I made Zac print photos of us together from when I was still pregnant. I didn’t need any of the photos; they didn’t even ask. They didn’t seem to care that my tax returns were printed PDF files either. In fact, our “interview” with the consulate officer, who looked like he was my age, was just him having us sign the paperwork and telling us how long it would be to receive her passport and Consular Report of a Birth Abroad. I had been worrying and fretting for nothing. It was so much easier than I thought it was going to be. I had read horror stories online of people getting rejected or getting the third degree about their marriage/relationship. Maybe they’re the only people who write about their experiences.

And now our daughter is a US citizen. I thought I would feel very relieved because of this; I’m not sure why. I don’t really feel any differently. It’s not like being an Indian citizen is a bad thing; after all, I married one. It’s going to make things easier for us as far as moving back to United States and traveling around. We weren’t planning on getting her CRBA until a little later this year, but an unexpected trip has come up, and we needed a passport for her for next month. Maybe she’ll be well practiced at this flying thing pretty soon. Who am I kidding? Every parent knows that as soon as you think you have your kid figured out she goes and changes it all up. And that’s totally fine with me. It’s a new adventure in parenthood each day, even if the adventure is her screaming because she’s an overtired mess, and we have to come up with some new way to bounce her to sleep. Zac and I are learning so much from this little girl, including more about each other. Our marriage, I feel, is only stronger now after becoming parents. We’re four months into this thing, and I think we’re doing okay. Evelyn is dearly loved by us and many other people, that’s for certain.

And since it was Mother’s Day yesterday, here are my feelings lately on motherhood. Right now, I am in the throes of postpartum hair loss and realizing that, no, breastfeeding is NOT going to get rid of the rest of my baby weight, so I’ve been feeling a little self-conscious about my physical appearance. But when Evelyn looks at me, she looks at me like I am her entire world. She looks to me to teach her, feed her, comfort her, and her only gift she can give me is a smile and giggle, and it’s the most wondrous gift in the world. I am simply in awe of her capability of learning new things each day, of her tiny body getting stronger all the time. I have a feeling she’ll be an explorer when she can start moving because her favorite thing is to be carried over my shoulder so she can look at her new world. I hope she can sense how much I love her. Because sometimes it’s so overwhelming that it actually makes my heart hurt.

Christmas 2013!

It’s December 29, 2013, here in Kerala, which means in three days, it will be 2014. And in 2014, I will be, God-willing, giving birth to a screaming, crying, pooping, sleeping, eating non-stop baby girl. I don’t know how it is for most women in my situation (LOL), but the fact that I will be a Mom in less than three weeks is way more exciting and terrifying than packing up and moving to India ever was. So, yeah, if you think these baby blog posts are ever going to stop now, you may as well just stop following my blog.

Since we have spent much of my husband’s hard-earned money on baby things, we had little money left over to do any big pre-baby vacations/trips/who-even-cares. Not that I really felt like it anyway because I feel like I’m carrying a small pony around inside me. But we did decide to do something “fun” on Christmas Day – we went to Varkala Beach and then had a five-course dinner at our favorite Trivandrum restaurant, Villa Maya.

,I am here to set the story straight about this beach trip lest you think it was something glamorous. Now, don’t get me wrong, Varkala Beach is beautiful. Probably the most beautiful beach in Kerala, if not the rest of India. It’s 98 percent clean (which is a huge deal; many beaches have loads of garbage), the water was gorgeous, and it’s absolutely not commercialized, meaning you don’t have to worry about people coming up and harassing you to take a speed boat ride (Zac and I have done this on Kovalam Beach, and it’s terrifying and dangerous and don’t do it). So, yes, Varkala is beautiful, and if you’re coming to Kerala for any reason, make a brief stop here. However, if you’re 8.5 months pregnant, don’t go thinking you can traipse through hot sand and climb up a cliff in the middle of a hot, sunny, tropical day, with no issues. Because there will be issues.

This beach is about an hour away from our house, so we left a little before 10 am and reached there around 11. After Zac courageously figured out the parking situation and I braved the “Pay & Use” bathroom, we were all set to explore.

One of the things we absolutely wanted to do was eat at Little Tibet, a tiny beach restaurant that was located somewhere on Papanasam Cliff. We asked a nice police officer where it was located, and he motioned for us to keep walking down the beach. Little did I know that he meant walk through two beaches and climb oodles of stairs.

This place looked like a backpacker's paradise. — This place looked like a backpacker’s paradise.

I was all nervous about taking a photo of these guys, and then I noticed a foreign couple standing directly in front of them, taking their photos.

At some point, we arrived at the northern end of the beach and holy foreigners! It was pasty skin as far as thee eye could see. Bikinis and speedos everywhere! Part of me felt relieved to see so many people who look just like me and another part was a little repulsed by all the display of skin. Personally, I was even a little uncomfortable removing my thin cardigan while we were there because I’m not used to showing off that much arm in public anymore. What’s happened to me??? Another thing I noticed about all the white people – they looked like they hadn’t showered in days. This was the first time I have realized how awful white people look when they come to India. No wonder we get stared at. I was so floored by my revelation that at one point I asked Zac if I looked like these people. And my dear, sweet husband stared at me in all my sweaty, pregnant splendor and said, “Well, you do a little right now.” Lesson learned.

To get to Little Tibet, we had to climb a bunch of stairs up a cliff.

Climbing those stairs was not my best idea. It was a really bad idea. Really, really bad. By the time we reached the top of the first set, my abdomen had tightened, I was short of breath, my knees were shot, my back was hurting. However, I am very stubborn, and I wasn’t going to let stairs get the best of me. So, we kept climbing despite Zac’s and Guram’s, his friend, protests. When we reached the top of the cliff, I was in such agony that I seriously felt like the dumbest person in the universe. But, hey, we had found Little Tibet! And we walked inside the entrance only to realize we had to go up one more flight of stairs.

The restaurant itself was okay. We had breakfast, which we didn’t think was anything too special. The juice I had was amazing, and the view from the top of the cliff overlooking the Arabian Sea was spectacular. Again, this place was all white people. Zac was the only Indian there.

Zac was also the only person that this cat slept on. Coincidence?

I don't want to exaggerate, but I'm pretty sure this lemon mint juice saved my life that day. — I don’t want to exaggerate, but I’m pretty sure this lemon mint juice saved my life that day.

After breakfast, we climbed back down the stairs, which was only slightly less painful for me. And then we made our way back to the car, stopping only so Zac could take some Baywatch photos of me in the water.

The water was so nice; I wanted so badly to just lie down in it.

And that was our trip to Varkala Beach. Next time, we decided to come either super early in the morning or in the evening because we hate the noontime sun. Lesson learned.

Christmas evening, we had booked a table at Villa Maya for their special Christmas dinner. Not just any table, but one of these:

I feel so fancy eating at this place. — We feel so fancy eating at this place.

Eating at Villa Maya is a totally different experience than what I am used to. I’ll start with the history – it’s an old palace that had been built for the maharaja’s wives. It had been empty for years before someone came along and thought it would be a great place to restore and turn into a restaurant. Sorry, a “fabled kitchen” (it’s their slogan). They have kept much of the history in tact, and on our first time there, we were given a tour of the place, explaining the historical significance of rooms and artifacts.

This pic is from our first time there. I was trying out maharaja-style dining, where you recline on the bed and the table is brought to you.

The little statues that are on the table were kept from the original palace.

In all of the little pools of water at Villa Maya, you can find tiny fish and frogs just hanging out.

The dining experience at Villa Maya is unbelievable as well. For the Christmas dinner, they had a five course meal planned. That wasn’t even counting the starter they bring out at the beginning which is usually some type of tiny hors d’oeuvre paired with an Ayurvedic drink, which I swear is designed to make you hungrier. For my Christmas dinner, I had the most Western style meal I could get – pumpkin bisque, roasted turkey with stuffing and cranberry sauce, and Christmas pudding. We also ate a bunch of appetizers (they were unlimited); I think some prawns, chicken tikka, and some fried mozzarella were included in there somewhere. The chefs and servers here seem to know how to give you just enough food and space it out just enough so that you can remain hungry for the whole meal. I’m getting hungry now just thinking about the food there!

I think I forgot to mention that they flambéed the Christmas pudding in front of us.

It was paired with ice cream. So incredibly good.

And that was our Christmas Day 2013. We also squeezed in a nap because 1.) We’re an old married couple now, and we like naps, and 2.) We know in a few weeks, naps and sleeping will be scarce. Hope everyone had a very Merry Christmas and will have a wonderful New Year!

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: