jenn's musings

2012

jennroberts — Tue, 03 Jan 2012 06:19:19 +0000

Another year and another lame attempt at maintaining a blog. I don’t know what it is about the beginning of a new year that makes me want to write, but if you look at my past postings, you’ll notice – apart from my trip to India – my writings tend to pick up late December/early January and stop mid-spring. Then there was that futile attempt to have a travel blog (I think that was fueled by watching Julie and Julia.) My sporadic blogging is probably more indicative of my life than anything else. I tend to be a person who likes to have a lot going on, so I normally find myself bored by the end of a break from school. By mid-spring, my life is so chaotic that I don’t have enough hours in the day to grade papers, much less maintain a blog, but alas, I’ll give it another go….

2011 definitely had its highs and lows, but I am never one to focus on the negative. Here are some of the highlights:

1. I became an aunt to the cutest little gal around. Love you, Evelyn!

2. Oliver started kindergarten and is doing really well. Emma was voted into student council, a huge boost for her wavering self-confidence. She also started playing the cello, which I think is awesome.

3. I Didn’t travel as much as I would have liked, but I was able to see Southern France for the first time. Such a gorgeous country. I also figured out how to properly pack wine in my suitcase for my return to the states. Wine bottles neatly wrapped in newly purchased scarves. Brillant, I tell you.

4. I passed my proposal defense and was promoted to candidacy. The PhD is in reach now. What a relief.

5. I was exposed to some great music, movies, and theater. Midnight in Paris was made for me; I love this movie for so many different reasons. I discovered Lily Allen and Kate Nash and cannot get enough of either of them. While I know the song has been around for a long time, Society, by Eddie Vedder, has become a song I cannot stop listening to. It’s so lovely. Seeing Ben Watts in Santaland Diaries was a definite highlight. What talent. I discovered (or was introduced to – thanks Soune) Everest Cafe and each time I’ve been, the food and the company has been amazing. Shrek was definitely not memorable in itself, but Oliver is now old enough to attend shows, and it was great attending our first show together as a family.

6. I found a healthy balance in my life, which basically means that I started running regularly again. I had become so focused on my PhD that I didn’t leave time to run. Sure, I’d go out for a couple miles ever so often, but it was sporadic at best. So, with Emma being of an age where she’s old enough to let me go run a few miles around the neighborhood and with my PhD in its final stages, I started running again. And, oh, how I missed it. I ran five races this fall and have a list of races for the spring. Happy running!

7. I have wonderful friends that make even the most mundane days great (you guys know who you are – love you). I also met some amazing people in 2011 who have helped make the end of the year a special one.

I don’t have any resolutions for the new year. This will be the year I finish my PhD, and it’ll also be the year I run a marathon again after not having run one in several years. I still have items looming on the bucket list – maybe this will be the year I pick up the violin or maybe I really will learn to speak French. Whatever I do, I want to be mindful about enjoying the moment and the people I’m with. So, in 2012, I vow to continue to surround myself with good people, good music, good food, and I will focus on enjoying the little moments life has to offer because really those are the most treasured.

________________________________
Just saw this old post from three years ago. Amazing how much of that still holds true today…

Last Day in India Ramblings

jennroberts — Fri, 09 Jul 2010 04:24:43 +0000

As anxious as I was to start this journey home, I was sad to leave the students at the school. Saying goodbye is always difficult – one of the older girls told me she was going to miss me, and my final meal with the boys in the orphanage was filled with gifts and sweet letters. As I walked to school for my final day, I realized the village residents are starting to know me. The man from the phone shop waved as he traveled in the opposite direction, while another asked if I was heading school. With recognition, came less hassle; I was becoming part of the community.

Each evening I visit a little girl who lives across from the school. She is probably just slightly over one and just adorable. She wants nothing to do with me. Another teacher holds her, and I talk to her, as she whimpers. On the final night, she held out her arms to me. I couldn’t believe it – she actually let me hold her. Then the women of the family invited me in their home for chai. I feel this is a huge gesture. The women had been aware of my presence at the school all week, but just now invited me to their place. The only interesting tidbit to our tea time is they didn’t speak English, and I don’t speak Hindi. Lots of smiles, nodding, and grinning, before a student came in and translated for us. It was interesting to see a larger family at work in the kitchen. One of the wives prepared the tea, another cut vegetables, while another made dough for naan.

The boys are so sweet – they wrote me letters and drew me pictures. Such thoughtful kids. I gave them all hugs before I left. I could tell it was awkward for them, but they are little boys and they need affection. They crave it and don’t get it. They are well taken care of, but they certainly do not have a mother figure who hugs them. There were a couple little boys who I could tell craved the attention. They’d grab my hand and hold it briefly if no one was looking.

Of course it would be the teacher that annoys me the most jumps in the jeep to accompany me to the train station. This guy is in his early 20s,and he totally creeps me out. He’s married but does not live with his wife and son and does not visit them – strange, if you ask me. On another occasion, we actually drove by his house to visit another village and he pointed to his house as we drove by.

For the last week, anytime he saw me he’d say my name. But not my name with a J. He said my name with a Z at the beginning, and he could never figure out that my name had an S at the end. So, about 20-30 times a day, I’d hear zennifer Robert. I cannot tell you how annoying this would get by the end of the day. I tried mynbest to avoid him, but he seemed to always be around. On the way to the train, I had to listen to zennifer Robert, what do you think? Zennifer Robert, how do you feel. Zennifer Robert is leaving today. The train couldn’t come quick enough.
At the train station he had the nerve to question me about not giving three boys money when they asked. He told me, “no mama, no papa, what’s a dollar?” I tried my best to remain calm, while telling him – it never ends. If I give money to one kid, five more appear. I have been asked hundreds and hundreds of times, and giving money rewards the begging. Clearly, we did not see eye to eye, but I held my ground and eventually the kids left.

I am happy to report that the train ride was uneventful. There are four trains to Delhi each evening from Gaya. They come through about the same time. I didn’t realize that when booking. I was just told which train is best to ride. Turns out it is the most expensive one. The teacher was explaining that most people could not afford the train. I was relieved to hear it was a nicer train for my long journey but was saddened to be standing there with wonderful people from the school who I knew could not afford the train.

I am glad to be in Delhi because it means I am a 13 train ride closer to home. It also was good timing, as I ran out of my packed toilet paper today. Luckily, this hotel supplies it. I also ate my last granola bar on the train. Tomorrow, it’s on to Paris, my favorite place in the world. I’m trying to locate a toy store because Emma was easier to shop for in India, and I need to get a couple things for Oliver before coming home. Tomorrow night, I will be sipping espresso from a cafe somewhere in Paris. I’m also going to wear a sundress (scandalous), wear my hair down (and not sweat to death), wear nice shoes (and not have them caked in dust) and put on jewelry (and not worry about it drawing attention or itching my skin in the heat). I cannot wait. I might even repolish my toes tonight!

Thought

jennroberts — Fri, 09 Jul 2010 04:23:44 +0000

Yesterday I was listening to my iPod in my room when one of my running songs came on….it made me want to go for a run more than anything.

The thought of me running through the streets of Bodhgaya in my running shorts and tank almost had me in tears I was laughing so hard.

Indians just stare at me – like I’m a monkey that’s escaped from the zoo or a clown or something equally as entertaining. I’m not talking about a quick once-over as I pass. I mean stare. They turn their head to follow me as I walk by or as they ride by my hotel and notice that I’m on the balcony. And in case everyone in the group didn’t notice my presence, someone will normally point to make sure everyone sees me. Last night at the train station, with three male teachers from the school, I noticed a circle of men and boys formed around me. I counted and there were 14 people standing uncomfortably close and staring.I was so uncomfortable.

Let me also add that in Bodhgaya every woman was wearing a sari – there were no exceptions. I paid attention to dress. Men wore whatever they wanted – a towel and no shirt, a traditional Indian outfit, jeans and a shirt, slacks etc… I even saw several men wearing Michael Jackson t-shirts.

So the image of me running down the streets – a woman running, nonetheless, for fun, in shorts- is so ridiculous that I couldn’t stop laughing…

The Bureaucracy That is India

jennroberts — Fri, 09 Jul 2010 04:14:21 +0000

In Delhi, I learned from a fellow traveler that there had been recent changes to the Indian visa. If a traveler is in India and wants to leave, then he must wait two months before entering back into the country. This regulation was in response to the 2008 Mumbai bombing makes traveling around Southern Asia difficult, as many use India as a base country. I – along with many others – planned to travel to neighboring Nepal for a long weekend before returning back to India. Today I ventured to the Indian Embassy and was greeted with a waiting area full of people. I was allowed to go to a window where I inquired about my return to India. I was told that I would need to grab a number, fill out an application, and wait to be called. In addition to the application and photo, there were many copies needed. I needed copies of my flights to and from India, visas, passport, detailed schedule once in India, and my entry and exit stamps. Luckily, there was a copy center next door. So, I took my number, made my copies, and joined the line.

The line moved incredibly slow. Sometimes it didn’t move for 15 minutes. Everyone was very irritable. I listened to those at the window and heard travel plans crushed over and over. Some had been waiting on a visa for over three weeks, only to find out it’d take longer. How much longer? The embassy didn’t know because these things take time. Some were successful and others were not. I kept going over my paperwork, making sure I had everything filled out correctly. After 2 1/2 hours of waiting, my number was called. I took my paperwork up and held my breath. I was told it was okay, and I could proceed to the next window where I was to pay 750 Nepalese rupees, a processing fee. I thought I was finished and could go on with my day, but as I was handed my receipt, I was told to come back at 5:30. I didn’t think it would be so simple. It was an all day ordeal.

I arrived a bit early because I didn’t want to wait any longer than I had to. I was the first one in and was handed my passport with the much needed re-entry stamp. I no longer have to worry and can go back to India tomorrow. I stood in line with a college student from Michigan, and he is leaving India a second time to travel to Thailand. I felt sorry for him because he knew he would have to repeat this process in a matter of weeks. What a cumbersome process. By changing the entry requirements, I think India has angered a lot of people. There were many in line that swore they’d never be back. Oh, the bureaucracy.

Trains in India

jennroberts — Thu, 08 Jul 2010 04:22:57 +0000

While in Nepal, I met a nice British girl at the Indian Embassy. We decided to have lunch together after enduring hours of waiting together at the embassy. We went to a nearby cafe and found it was very crowded. We asked to sit with a woman who was alone at her table. Turns out, she was from Somalia, and the three of us enjoyed a great lunch.

The British girl had never been to India but was extremely excited to head here in August. The Somalian girl made a vow to herself after having spent much time here that she would never step foot on Indian soil again. She went into great lengths about how much she hated her experience in India. She felt scared and threatened in Delhi. She also talked about her hatred for Indian trains. She actualy woke to find a man ‘doing his business’ outside her bunk. Although I have encountered no such incident and have had decent experiences on the train, I must admit I’m not that fond of them either

When booking an Indian train, one is not guaranteed a seat. They sell seats and later chart the train. It is only after they chart the train does a passenger know if he has a seat. There is a possiblity of being waitlisted and not knowing until the night before if a seat is available. It is annoying not to have a confirmed seat when booking.

Each car is divided by class. The dollar is strong enough that I been mostly traveling by first class. It is still extremely cheap by American standards. My first train, which was to Agra, was delightful. What is not delightful are the train stations, which is where a large portion of the homeless people live. I hate to put it this way, by navigating luggage through the people is like a tricky maze. I had an extremely difficult time – my luggage is heavy, and I didn’t want to run over someone’s foot or hand. It’s just a sea of sleeping people. As they wake, they want money. I hate being at the train stations. It’s not just in Delhi; it’s everywhere. Every train station is full of people. Just miserable.

First class was already full so I had to travel 3A from Agra to Jaipur. 3A means there are three bunks on each side in a small compartment. Essentially, this means there are six people sharing a small space. Each person has his or her own bunk, but what happens is the middle bunk is flipped up, and everyone sits on the bottom bunk. So, if I wanted to sleep on my reserved bottom bunk, I wouldn’t be able to. The men on the top two bunks slept the entire journey. I sat opposite of an Indian family. The kids were beautful, but the mother was extremely unsure about my presence. She just stared, never smiling or making any gesture of friendship. It was the most awkward four hours of my life.

Realzing the train is not for me (of Delhi, for that matter), I canceled the overnight train I originally booked from Delhi to Varanasi. I bought a flight instead, which was much better than taking another train ride.

Bodhgaya is so far removed from any airport that I didn’t have any other option – I had to take the train from Varanasi. Again, I traveled in first class and had a pleasant experience. It was a sleeping train so first class meant that four people shared an area. I had a bottom bunk, as did the high school student from America. I think we were both relieved to have each other for country. And I didn’t stare at him, as he listened to his Ipod, and he didn’t stare at me while I read Naked by Sedaris. I didn’t realize until my previous train ride that a book with a pair of boxers shorts on it was probably not the best pick for India.

Tonight I take the train from Bodhgaya to Delhi. It’s an overnight train and it couldn’t be avoided. I really dread riding the the train. I dread it. My suitcase is too large and does not fit under the seats so I guess I’ll sleep with it?!? I don’t know. I don’t plan on getting much sleep tonight, but I don’t care to see any more of Delhi so I’ll have all day to sleep tomorrow in an air conditioned room!!! The train will also be air conditioned!!! Oh, to feel cool air again. I cannot wait!!! See you tomorrow in Delhi!

Bodh Gaya: The Land of Two ATMs and One Trash Can

jennroberts — Thu, 08 Jul 2010 04:22:05 +0000

After school let out today, I walked into Bodh Gaya to find an ATM. I walked through the main tourist section of town but did not see an ATM sign. I remembered walking by a bank on Sunday and realized this would probably be my only option. The bank is located on the far opposite side of town (of course). The ATM wasn’t working. The man said, “don’t worry miss. We have another ATM in Bodhgaya.”
“Oh, great. And where might that be?”
“About two kilometers that way.” He pointed to a side street, still going in the opposite direction. I needed cash so I really didn’t have another option. I bought a coke to drink while I made the long walk to the only working ATM.
I finished my coke, received my cash, and headed back to the hotel with my empty coke bottle. That is one of the difficult parts of India – there are no trash cans. I will admit, I littered in high school (as Lindsey will tell you), but we recycle everything in my house and throwing a bottle on the ground pains me. But that is what they do here. They throw everything on the ground. There are piles of trash on the sides of the roads, next to houses, outside shops – trash is just a part of life here. A disgusting, stinky part of life, no doubt.

So, I’m walking back to the hotel, fully intending to throw the bottle away in my room, but then I see it. A trash can. I can hardly believe my eyes. Could it really be a trashcan? In public? I couldn’t believe it.

I threw my bottle in, and to my surprise, a woman quickly retrieved it. So, they don’t recycle in India, but they do reuse. I guess that’s nearly the same thing, isn’t it?

Annoyingly Perky

jennroberts — Wed, 07 Jul 2010 04:21:17 +0000

ndia is not one of those places you instantly love. It’s raw and gritty, and I feel you have to be here for awhile before you start to see the beauty of the place. Even then, it’s a love/hate relationship. Nothing is easy. You have to work to overcome certain aspects, like the poverty or the constant begging. For me, it’s been a rollercoaster. Some moments have been enjoyable, while others have pushed me so far I want to scream.

Right in the middle of one of my, “I’m going to scream” moments, I meet super excited and painfully perky Irish girl. She just flew in from Dublin, and she’s so excited to be in India (to be read in a valley girl voice).

I have already written about the invasive security measures in Kathmandu. When my Kathmandu/Delhi flight landed in Delhi, I went to exchange my Nepalese rupees, but they would not exchange them. Apparently, India and Nepal have some terrible I hate your currency relationship. I was annoyed by this fact because I had over 3,000 Nepalese rupees.

After the failure at the currency counter, I went to collect my suitcase. I noticed the crowd dwindling, but there were a few of us left. I waited and waited. Ultimately, I was the last one standing. With no new bags on the belt, I began to panic, and I thought back to a conversation I had while checking in for my flight. The man at the counter asked, heading to Mumbai?
No. I’m going to Delhi.
And then to Mumbai?
No. I just came drom Mumbai. I’m flying to Delhi. That’s it. Delhi.
Okay. I see. Delhi.
So, my suitcase is going to go to Delhi, right?
Yes. Delhi. Just to Delhi.

Standing there, without my suitcase, I kept replaying this conversation over and over. I tried to ask someone, but they continued walking. He didn’t even bother to stop. I asked someone else, and he actually helped. He asked me to describe my suitcase. Um, it’s black (aren’t they all? I think I need something to distinguish my suitcase), and he sent someone to the back. I waited and waited, nervous that I was going to miss my flight to Varanasi and arrive with only the clothes on my back and a carryon full of electrinics. Low and behold, my suitcase appears on the belt. I don’t know where it was, why it wasn’t with the rest from my flight, but I didn’t care at this point. I grabbed my suitcase, asked from directions for the domestic terminal, and ran towards the shuttle bus.

I was getting ready to board the shuttle bus when a man stopped me. No, Miss. You have to get on down there. I had no idea what he was talking about. He then tells me, you have to go inside. What? I just came from inside. This is the bus, and you won’t let me on it?

I storm inside, through the door, into the waiting room, and am asked for my ticket. Well, I don’t have a ticket because I’m trying to get to the terminial so I can get my ticket. I pull out my phone and show the email reservation. He didn’t know if this was sufficient, but after much deliberating, he lets me through.

This is where I meet Miss Ireland. She’s so happy that she’s in India. Isn’t it great? We’re in India!! She squeels.
Yeah, it’s great alright.
I just can’t believe I’m actually in India.
Yeah! Pretty amazing, I stammer.

She’s grinning ear to ear, and talking a mile a minute. I’m seriously going to punch this girl if she doesn’t shut up, I thought to myself. She yammered away the entire ride to the domestic terminal. What she said – I have no idea. I just kept nodding and saying, yeah. It’s great. Great. Fantastic.

Shopping in Jaipur

jennroberts — Wed, 07 Jul 2010 04:20:33 +0000

Jaipur is known to have some of the best shopping in India. With shopping, comes bargaining and haggling. I saw a beautiful sewn piece of fabric. It was like a quilt but made of all one color. Each had different designs and embellishments. I really liked it so I went in to look. There were three men inside who immediately stared pulling many down to show me. The man standing next to me told me they cost 1,500 rupees. I laughed because this was way over priced. He then asked me how much I though it was worth. I said 750. Fine.

At this point, he places one in a bag and starts to hand it to me. I shake my hands. I didn’t say I wanted it. I stood there, trying to decide a purpose for this thing. What would I do with it? I liked it but for what? I had no idea.

I’m going to pass. I don’t know what I would do with it.

To this, I was told I could use it as a carpet.
I don’t think so.
Table cloth.
I can’t really see this on my table.
Hang it on the wall.
No.
Sew a dress out of it.
This guy seriously has no idea who he is talking to – I don’t know how to sew, and I certainly wouldn’t take this appart to sew a dress out of it.

I tried to make my way to the door, but there was a man in between me and the door. How much? How much?
I don’t want it! I don’t know what I’d do with it. I shouted as I snuck around the man. He then proceeded to shout prices at me. 500, as I exited the door. 400, as I entered the street. 300, as I was walking away.

Just for you miss. 300 rupees.

I just kept on walking….

I Made It

jennroberts — Wed, 07 Jul 2010 04:19:56 +0000

Toliets in India are essentially holes in the ground. They are made of ceramic or porcelain and have ridges along the sides for traction purposes, but really it’s just a hole. A person squats over the hole and then cleans himself by means of water. I mean, I guess this is how it works. There is a faucet and a small bucket next to each ‘toilet’ so I assume that is its purpose.

My sister had lots of fun with me when she found out I was visiting India, “You’re going to wipe yourself with your hand.” She thought this was hilarious. I just thought I’d bring toliet paper. Problem solved.

Most hotels accomodate Westerners and have toliets (as we know them). Some suppliy toliet paper in the room, while others have handed it to me with the key to my room.

That is until Bodhgaya. No toliet paper. I was so glad to have my stashed toliet paper rolls. I contemplated throwing them out at an earlier hotel, since they all seemed to be supplying it. All until Bodhgaya, that is.

What this means is I only use the restroom in my hotel room. I will tell you this has left me in some interesting situations. I was nearly running down the streets of Mumbai, hoping to make it back to my hotel in time. This also means I have to regulate my water intake, which is extremely hard to do in this heat. Today for instance, I drank way too much water and had to leave school an hour early because I knew I would never make it to the end of the day. I also knew I would have to walk the 2 kilometers back to the guesthouse because if I waited for the ride, they’d want to serve me lunch and chai tea, and you never know how long that will take. So, I walked the long walk home, in the hottest part of the day, in the blazing sun.

The hotel workers probably think I’m nuts. Today, I came home from school. Left a few minutes later to have lunch and go into Bodhgaya, only to come back again (to use the restroom) before immediately leaving to go to the internet cafe. The man asked, Out again, Miss? Yes! I smiled. I’m going to email. He looked puzzled – he knew I was just in Bodhgaya and now was heading back in the same direction. Maybe he’s on to me, or maybe he just thinks I’m crazy.

Traveling Solo Together

jennroberts — Tue, 06 Jul 2010 04:19:05 +0000

I keep thinking back to a student’s response when he realized I would be traveling alone. He could not fathom traveling alone. Wouldn’t I get lonely? bored? etc. The thought of me traveling along through Asia greatly puzzled him. I assured him I’d be fine – that I’d meet people and would enjoy the solitude.

As I predicted, I have met amazing people.

In Tokyo, I met a student named David. He was from Korea and was traveling back from spending the semester studying in San Fran. His English was perfect, and I was shocked to learn that he had only been studying for three years. We ran into each other outside of the fish market and spent the rest of the day together. We shared a Japanese lunch before parting later in the afternoon, as he wanted to go to a sports arena.

In route to Hong Kong, I met the friendliest woman from New Zealand. We spent most of the day together, as we both had a long layover in Beijing. She had an opportunity through work to visit Tokyo and was now planning to meet her husband in his hometown in northern England. They were spending time with his family before traveling to Spain for a cruise. I wanted to join her on her trip. It sounded wonderful.

Ashley and I were rather forced together in Hong Kong. We were both traveling to see the big Buddha and were singles so they had us share a car. By the time we arrived, we realized we got along great so we traveled together the rest of the day. She had been traveling all over South Asia for three months and was meeting her mom to continue her travels in Europe later in the week.

On the flight from Honk Kong to India, I met Jiya, a young college student who liked to excessively use the word f*@k. I couldn’t believe it. She’s from Delhi and had been in Hong Kong visiting a friend. We were just chatting about flight time when I mentioned the length of my Chicago-Tokyo flight. F*@k, she shouted. Did I mention we were also sharing a row with a monk. So, I have Jiya, the saucy mouth teenager wanting to take me clubbing in Delhi, sitting next to a reserved monk. It was a trip, needless to say. Jiya actually gave me her number in case I wanted to meet up to go clubbing, or if I needed anything. I thought that’s the last thing on my agenda – clubbing with a recent high school graduate.

In Delhi, I traveled briefly with a girl from Spain. She was beautiful and had been in India for months. She had many helpful hints, as I was extremely overwhelmed in Delhi.

In Agra, I met a Chinese student who is studying in the states. We were staying at the same hotel so met later in the evening to watch the sun set over the Taj Mahal from the roof of our hotel. She met two girls earlier in the day and was planning to meet them for dinner, so I joined. Turns out the two girls were friends from Mizzou. The one is from Mumbai and the other lives in Chicago and came to India to visit her friend from college. We shared the nicest dinner – four strangers in the morning and four friends by the night’s end. What a great day.

In Nepal, I spent a day with Martin, the Frenchman. He was dissing Paris, so I wasn’t too keen on his company. But it was company. We visited the monket temple and took lots of pictures of the scenery together.

In Varanasi, I met Eva from Belgium. We decided to share a taxi from the train station to split the cost. Turns out Eva, with her blond hair and blue eyes, speaks perfect Hindi. I cannot tell you how helpful she was. Someone would approach us, and then she’d respond in Hindi. It was instant respect. It was great. We spent a lot of time together, as we decided to go to the same hotel. We exchanged numbers and emails – her studies are similar to mine.

Most recently, I have been joined at the school by two Japanese volunteers. They are so nice, and we have been having a great time together. Today we took chai tea after a long day of class. They have a great relationship with the school, as they have been there many times. I feel they are showing me the ropes.

I am not mentioning all the great people I have had nice conversations with – a high school student from the US who traveled to India so he could experience Indian culture, the American living and studying in Japan. The Parisian girl I shared the computer room with for several hours, the Sweeden girl who had been working in Nepal for six months, the nervous girl from Ohio who came to Nepal to volunteer, the family from Amsterdam who explained the cremation ceremony…the list goes on and on.

It’s amazing that by traveling to Asia, I have connected with so many Europeans. It’s been great. In Europe, I have always been the outsider so locals don’t really interact. But in Asia, we a unique bond in our Western ways. It’s been great to interact with so many wonderful people.