A strange thing happened to me the other day. A friend of the family sent an email out inviting me to a 17 day trip to Mount Kailash and Lake Mansarovar in September. Venkat, the sender of the email, is an avid mountaineer and participates in multiple treks every year. A couple of years ago I had expressed to him an interest in going to Lake Mansarovar and although there have been opportunities in the past, the timing was never right.
You’re probably thinking “so what’s so strange about being invited to a trek to the Himalayas?”.
I’m getting to that part in a bit.
As some of you may be aware, I am off to spend a couple of months in New York towards the latter part of April. I’ve always talked shamelessly about my love affair with the city, written several posts about it and probably bored many to near-death. It’s been 16 months since my last visit to New York and you would think that I would be euphoric about being there in a few days.
Don’t get me wrong - I’m definitely looking forward to it. I may even go to the extent and say that I’m excited. But the ‘strange thing’ is that (here it comes) I’m way more excited about spending 17 days in the mountains, 5 months from now. My mind has put New York into the back burner.
I had already decided that this time I was going to do things in New York that I probably hadn’t done before. I have no idea what they are but I’ll figure it out. Probably do ‘off-off-Broadway’ instead of ‘off-Broadway’ or ‘Broadway’. Find high-in-character, low-in-glitz, scrumptious-in-taste restaurants. Take photos in streets that have no name (corny I know). I’m starting off by staying in Flatiron, a location that is quite new for me. The rest, I guess, will follow. Oh and I have the Fine Cooking class that I’ve signed up for, friends and some family coming to visit me while I’m there. I know I’ll have more than a blast.
So maybe it’s the excitement of going to a new place, the serenity of the Himalayas, the being-one-with-nature that has got me more excited. I know I’ll be eating basic food, lugging my luggage, staying in tents, freezing my butt off. Doesn’t sound like too much of a holiday, does it? Then why is it that every time I think about it, my heart almost begins to pound? We all know the answer. I’m just playing with you guys!
Strange thoughts are now being processed in my mind. Thoughts such as ‘this could be my last trip to New York in a while’. It costs me a lot of money to visit the city that I love, largely because I choose to spend a significant amount of time there and renting a place in Manhattan is expensive. Maybe I need to channel those funds elsewhere and discover new loves (or hates). Until a few days ago, it was a given in my mind that I’d be making a trip to the Big Apple every year. I used to make fun of this friend in Chicago who, every summer, went with his family to North Carolina. Never went anyplace new because it was tried and tested and they knew what to expect. I could never understand it. And then I think that, am I really being the same way? Should I be making fun of myself now? I know it’s not the same thing because New York isn’t my only vacation of the year. But still.
Is my love affair coming to an end?
I have no idea. But I figure I’ll have the answer in a couple of months.
Tso Moriri, Ladakh
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Homer Simpson and the Chicken Pox
About a month ago I was watching an episode of The Simpsons in which little Maggie gets the chicken pox and passes it on to her father, Homer. Now I bet you can never guess who Homer subsequently passes on the virus to. And no points for guessing if you already know.
Yes, it was me. Talk about reality TV - this is hitting too close to home. I’ve decided that I’m not watching any more medical shows. Go away Doctor House, no reruns of Scrubs or the next season of Nurse Jackie. God only knows what I may catch from one of them.
While the chicken pox is not a life threatening illness, it sure is a life annoying one. The picture of Homer Simpson scratching his spotty body with a branch was embedded in my brain, wanting to do the same, but refraining from it. After all I’m not a cartoon character who magically will be spot free in the next episode. I cannot even begin to tell you how many times I heard someone say (over the phone of course, while wagging their index finger is the picture in my head), “Make sure you don’t scratch the lesions because they’ll leave a permanent scar”. Really? How come no one mentioned it earlier?
Now keep in mind that I could have no human contact, so the phone was my only connection with the outside world. In this age of instant communication, it wasn’t long before a significant number of people found out about my condition via the ‘have you heard’ method. So of course, I was kept entertained by many ‘when I had the chicken pox’ stories, as a child, as an adult, the unforgettable pain in the ass illness.
Thank goodness for the phone though. And thank goodness that I’m as popular as I am. Because on most days I had to charge my phone batteries both in the morning and in the evening. How else would I have been able to get through those dark two weeks?
Of course there were also the movies to keep me entertained. Before the Academy Awards ceremony, I had to make sure that I watched as many nominated films as I could. So I got The Fighter, The King’s Speech, The Social Network (which actually I had seen in the theater), 127 Hours (that one too!), Inception (oops, also in the theater), The Kids are All Right, under my belt. I’ve also downloaded Black Swan and True Grit but haven’t had ‘the time’ to watch them as yet, because I’ve been 'too busy’ on the phone.
Speaking of the Academy Awards, were they a big bore this year or was it just me bored to death? If this was the ‘younger and hipper’, give me the ‘older and frumpier’ back. Give me Alec Baldwin, Steve Martin, Billy Crystal, Jon Stewart back. Please. I could have used a few laughs.
So even though I’ve recovered from the virus now and the scabs have all fallen, I feel like I should be named ‘Spotty’. Thankfully my face is not bad but the rest of me is covered with pink spots, which means that I’ll be wearing long pants and long sleeves for a while. Eventually I hope to be spot free again. And by eventually I mean by the end of April when I fly out to New York, the coolest, awesomest and definitely the most superficial city in the world. I really heart it!
So here it is. My story of how Homer Simpson gave me the chicken pox and messed up two weeks of my life. It was the un-funniest episode I have ever experienced.
Yes, it was me. Talk about reality TV - this is hitting too close to home. I’ve decided that I’m not watching any more medical shows. Go away Doctor House, no reruns of Scrubs or the next season of Nurse Jackie. God only knows what I may catch from one of them.
While the chicken pox is not a life threatening illness, it sure is a life annoying one. The picture of Homer Simpson scratching his spotty body with a branch was embedded in my brain, wanting to do the same, but refraining from it. After all I’m not a cartoon character who magically will be spot free in the next episode. I cannot even begin to tell you how many times I heard someone say (over the phone of course, while wagging their index finger is the picture in my head), “Make sure you don’t scratch the lesions because they’ll leave a permanent scar”. Really? How come no one mentioned it earlier?
Now keep in mind that I could have no human contact, so the phone was my only connection with the outside world. In this age of instant communication, it wasn’t long before a significant number of people found out about my condition via the ‘have you heard’ method. So of course, I was kept entertained by many ‘when I had the chicken pox’ stories, as a child, as an adult, the unforgettable pain in the ass illness.
Thank goodness for the phone though. And thank goodness that I’m as popular as I am. Because on most days I had to charge my phone batteries both in the morning and in the evening. How else would I have been able to get through those dark two weeks?
Of course there were also the movies to keep me entertained. Before the Academy Awards ceremony, I had to make sure that I watched as many nominated films as I could. So I got The Fighter, The King’s Speech, The Social Network (which actually I had seen in the theater), 127 Hours (that one too!), Inception (oops, also in the theater), The Kids are All Right, under my belt. I’ve also downloaded Black Swan and True Grit but haven’t had ‘the time’ to watch them as yet, because I’ve been 'too busy’ on the phone.
Speaking of the Academy Awards, were they a big bore this year or was it just me bored to death? If this was the ‘younger and hipper’, give me the ‘older and frumpier’ back. Give me Alec Baldwin, Steve Martin, Billy Crystal, Jon Stewart back. Please. I could have used a few laughs.
So even though I’ve recovered from the virus now and the scabs have all fallen, I feel like I should be named ‘Spotty’. Thankfully my face is not bad but the rest of me is covered with pink spots, which means that I’ll be wearing long pants and long sleeves for a while. Eventually I hope to be spot free again. And by eventually I mean by the end of April when I fly out to New York, the coolest, awesomest and definitely the most superficial city in the world. I really heart it!
So here it is. My story of how Homer Simpson gave me the chicken pox and messed up two weeks of my life. It was the un-funniest episode I have ever experienced.
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