Phew…. The last post really sent me on a little spree in the Eaux Me, Eaux My section of things in my brain. If you want to know more about the travels of my childhood head on over there when you get a chance.

In here, I think we should start a little bit backwards. Or sideways and upside down. It’s a Wonkavator. Maybe it’ll all meet in the middle somewhere, and you’ll be like, “I totally get why she’s broke.” Not really. A little. ‘It’s fine. I’m fine. Everything is fine.’ My friend has a T-shirt that says that. She looks like a warrior princess on casual day - a magical human.

Anyway, let’s go to India. That’s where I began the greatest healing journey I’ve had so far. The inside of my brain will be loosely accompanied by some updates to friends and also, my journal. You’ll find these excerpts to be diagonal. We’ll probably be in India for a while. I’m so excited for us all!

I just couldn’t help myself. And yes, this is exactly what I feel like right now…

So here we gooooooo!

Can you hear Mario? Shouldn’t we all just be racing around in carts on beautiful beaches where we can’t drown?

January 9, 2017
We have been given every possible ounce of goodness so far. Mom and I, of course, got to Charlotte airport late. Super late, actually. The good news began early. The flight crew was late too. Not just one of them, the whole flight crew! Can’t leave without those guys! Ha!

We took the quick and easy flight to NYC and met Lori at baggage claim in JFK. We had coffee at the little airport diner while discussing our excitement and hopes for the trip. Mom was excited to be in a “real New York City diner” because, well, SHE’S ADORABLE!

We headed into the city at around noon and went straight to The Houndstooth Pub to meet my cousin, Rachel!

Our first cab driver was precious. He knew absolutely nothing about New York. Amandeep was his name. He said to call him Aman. Aman is originally from the northern part of India. He’s never been to Mumbai, but highly recommends that all who travel there make sure to see a wedding. He told us all about the world of cab driving. And all the great things about the word Namaste.

Funny I didn’t write any of those wise words down. I wonder what he told us? I have a terrible memory.

The Houndstooth was lovely.

Truly I must’ve been so impressed. I almost never have a fully good review of a restaurant. Being raised in the restaurants of the past, we were taught to really take care of people. I worked at a restaurant in Colorado for a while. It was in a ski village. One time, a customer wanted mayo, but we didn’t have mayo because we were a Tex-Mex restaurant. Texoradican. It was delicious.

Anyway, I left the restaurant and went up the stairs to another restaurant to get this guy some mayo… because in the past, service was all that mattered. And we were very happy to get you what you needed quickly. It was a ballet. What can I get you before you even know you want it? And how intuitively can I win that game? It was magic. It’s supposed to be magic.

And I often have an easy time finding an issue to shush myself about in a building where I am hoping to be served well. It’s tough. Most of the people who love me most NEVER want to eat out with me. I become quiet as soon as we walk by the kitchen, and I just can’t ever stop seeing things after that. It is truly a disease. I wish it were different.

So high praise for The Houndstooth who got a “lovely” from me. And my apologies to them, as that is the only documentation I have of this event so I have no idea what I liked most about their establishment. I do remember that I laughed a lot while I was there because my cousin Rachel is the best kind of hilarious. And she has a most infectious laugh.

As we sat at the pub watching the passers-by out the window, I saw a whole lot of doppelgängers. Doppelgängers make me happy.

I just couldn’t bear to take this out. Doppelgängers do make me so happy.

From New York, we headed to London, and I’ve got to tell you… I am mad at myself right now for not writing down more of that. We were only there for an incredibly memorable eight hours. So memorable that I remember some of it.

I like to break up my trips. That is, I like to get my money’s worth. And it’s a big deal for me JUST to have been there. So when we went to India, we also got to go to New York and London. I plan the layovers to be opposite of what everyone else in the world is looking for. I want the time.

If you’re traveling through the same country, it’s real easy to do this with hardly any time at all. A three hour layover gets you an hour and a half out there in the city if you plan it well, and do it right. In a different country, you need a lot more time. You get off the plane, go through lines and customs, bag checks and questionnaires, and just to be sure you’re not TERRIBLE they are somehow always so sure that you have some mysterious wildlife with you.

Did you bring any food? Precious or semi-precious stones? Animal skins? Any plant life? If I were a bolder human, they would really hate me in customs. Ummmm…. it’s just a week, buddy. I didn’t bring my ferns.

And an hour or so later, you’re free. Unless you’re bold. You could be there for a long, long time if you act or seem human in any way. And then, you know, you need to get back to the airport another hour and a half ahead for the flight out. So really, you need at the very least five hours, depending on your ability to hold on to your hilarity. That gets you two and a half hours out there, maybe.

I don’t remember how much time we gave ourselves in London. Feels like seven seconds. Still. Painful. I had been there before when I was much younger, and don’t remember it being so terrible to navigate. Trains, so many color-codes, hmmmm… we were lost from the second we left the airport to the time we made it back. We saw Big Ben, and I ate a Croque Monsieur at a little restaurant on the corner of I have no idea where I was.

There were a lot of people everywhere, and they were in a hurry, and I came from the south, so… painful. My mother has always been afraid of escalators. It’s a phobia that we all made fun of as kids, as we were trying to race up the down, ya know? But as I grow, I continue to accept all her fears and ticks and festerings, unwillingly of course, but still, they are all mine now. So I’m afraid to go down an escalator. It’s totally irrational. I know that it’s going to be fine. I do. But ooooooooo…. mmmmm…. I’ll just take the stairs.

So, we’re in London. Lost. Overwhelmed. We’ve been lost for a long time. So we try to get back to the airport via train. Great. We can totally do this. And yes, I realize that we’re in London, and it’s all in English. And yes, I am a little embarrassed to tell you about it. But I am often lost. Even in places where I know. I get lost pretty easily. Never paying close attention. Always watching wind blow.

So, we walk into the trainnnn… I don’t know… station? barricade? underground, suffocating tunnel filled with anxiety to a most social degree?… and there I am, not paying attention. Not realizing that I am walking myself and my mother, and my poor unassuming friend, into a space where there is no choice but to go down. Down for the longest time. Nope, no elevator. Nope, no stairs. Nope, no way out.

It was the longest. escalator. ever. Excuse me for a moment.

Okay, thanks for being patient. I’ve looked it up now, you’ll be happy to know. Because you are important. And why wouldn’t I do a little research for you? The longest escalator in London is 200 feet down. That was surely it. Need some perspective? I am only a little over 5 ft down.

Again, I have no idea where I was so there’s probably no way to ever find out which very long escalator we had to be part of. We went down… forever. And in slow motion. Holding hands, and almost crying. Both of us. Ridiculous.

I have all these friends that rock climb. Ha! Big fat no thank you. I’ll just take the stairs. Oh, there’s no stairs. Cool. I’ll just sit right here and take pictures while I pray that you get to see them.

I haven’t even made it a day. Maybe we’ll get to India in the next one.

Still can’t help it. You’re welcome!