The Motherland Beckons.

A co-worker of mine just got back from a two week trip to India. She was there attending a good friend's wedding and got to experience the sights and sounds (and smells) of Delhi. Ahhhh...nothing like dodging cars, buses, bicycles, cows, pigs to get to the market. But it was really cool hearing a non-Indian's tale. We Indians, especially those of us who have been traveling to the motherland since we were five, have gotten used to being in a third-world country. It takes us roughly three days to fully adjust to the time difference, the lack of showers and having to use a plastic bucket to bathe, the cardboard toilet paper (if there even is any -- we tend to bring our own from the good ol' U.S. of A.), the 6% milk or better yet, milk straight from the cow, the noise, the litter, the stray dogs, the beggers, and best of all, the insane traffic.

Now, I don't say this to derail anyone's thoughts of ever visiting India. It truly is an experience. Positives outweigh the negatives. There's the culture, the food, the music, the cheesy Bollywood movies, the architecture, the history, the clothing, and of course, the shopping! Oh the shopping. The stuff you see in Pier 1 and expensive retail shops, like the one in Union Square in S.F. that's been marked up 300%, totally gyps you in the shopping experience. In India, when you walk into a clothing store for instance, you're comfortably seated in front of a platform where you'll find seated (Indian-style of course) an employee of the store. After politely asking you what you'd like to drink (typically it's chai or coffee or Campa Cola/Limka/Fanta or any other variation of B-rated sodas), he/she will start pulling out beautiful fabrics of saris, salwaar kameez, shawls, etc, from the numerous shelves behind him/her. And the whole time you get to play the snotty shopper, nose held high in the air, yes-ing and no-ing the selections.

How freakin' FUN!

That is until the bill comes along. This is when you get to experience the magic. The store owner, who thinks he's sized you up ("Oh, deez travelers! Dey come here vith dere muney and shop and shop and have no clue how to bargun!") gets a good eye-opener. You see, even though we're Indian we still have a stereotype because we live abroad. This happens to be a dream for some natives: going to America where the streets are paved with gold. So when we head back we're perceived as foreigners too. However, what they fail to remember is that our PARENTS were BORN and RAISED in the motherland and know a helluva lot about how to deal with these types. So, the store owner goes from being sweet and charming with his "would-you-like-chai-or-soft-drink" to "how-am-I-going-to-feed-my-five-children-if-I-lower-the-price-any-further?" But in the end, everyone usually gets what they want and I get to go home happy with a brand new Indian wardrobe. Ahhh...good times.

Talking about all of this has definitley revved up my traveling engine. So I'm thinking of making a trip. Sometime before it gets too damn hot in India and since most homes don't have air conditioning, this can be quite an unpleasant sight (and smell). I definitley encourage you all to try it out one day in the not too far future. You might hate it and vow never to eat Indian food again OR you might just love it and truly appreciate what India has to offer.

Don't Mess With Texas!!

Man, what a game! What a FREAKIN' GAME!!! Vince Young: I want to make babies with you. You know you've supported your team when you celebrate so hard that you're severly hungover the next day and hoarse from screaming for hours. I feel like absolute shit today but it is so worth it.

GO TEXAS!!!

Vacation's over bitches.

Holy brainfart in a handbasket. What is it about vacations and being brain-dead? I thought weekends were a bit numbing but give me 4+ days and I'm useless. That's exactly what happened when I decided to take a jaunt up to wonderful, snow covered Toronto. Now, some of you may not be able to truly appreciate what I'm about to say here. I think you have to be a Torontonian (I mean, had to have been BORN there, people) to really understand what I'm talkin' 'bout. I'm talking Tim Hortons and their "medium coffee double double" or creamy French cappuccino with delicious Timbits on the side. I'm talking Swiss Chalet and their famous dipping sauce that I'd be more than happy to bathe in any given Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday...you get the idea. I'm talking the smell of burning firewood up your nostrils while you crunch, crunch, crunch through the snow, throwing a killer snowball at a nine-year-old's head. I'm talking Canada people and I'm saying I love it. I didn't realize how much I missed that damned peaceful country until this past visit. The "eh"s and the "I'm talking aBOOT my hOOSE covered in snOO" CANADA. I love it. I miss it. I wanna marry it.

Now, before any of you die-hard Americans get all riled up and tell me to move my sorry non-American patriot ass back up north let me just say this. I HAVE LIVED IN THE U.S. FOR 13 YEARS. And not because I was forced to but because I actually enjoy living here. OK, maybe not so much in Texas but overall, not a bad place to live in, this U.S.A. It's just the kid in me that jumps up and down and spins around until snot comes flying out of her nose whenever she sets foot into Toronto. I think that's it. It's my childhood coming out full-force, balls-out to get drunk on Canada. Where else can you have 20 close friends all from different countries? Where you get Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter instead of the "Season of Hot" and the "Season of Cold". Where hockey is it's very own religion and has a following of 25 million people (they have services every Saturday night at the Air Canada Centre). And as reserved as some hardcore Canadians are, there's still something so charming about their dry sense of humour. Huh. Look at that. A "u" in "humor" (sigh). I even love those French Canadian bastards in Quebec (so sorry, Quebequois) who decided to convert all their bilingual road signs into French.

Holy Canada overload Batman.

So imagine my frustration as I head back to work post-Toronto and have trouble operating my mouse. Had all this fun made me stupid? Is it possible to lose brain cells in colder climates where Molson Canadian and Labatt Blue flow freely from the kitchen sink faucet? Have I become a compulsive liar or is this just the post-vacay blues? That would make a great outdoor ad. "Got the post-vacation blues? Call 1-800-ITS-CALLED-BACK-TO-WORK-ASSHOLE to speak to one of our trained professionals."

Seriously. Someone comment.