Monsoon Wedding

Despite the fact that it is most definitely no longer the rainy season here in India, a light drizzle enveloped us as we drove up to the Tamarind Tree, an antique sculpture garden that served as the magical setting for Rushmi and Vikram's wedding. That light drizzle turned into an open faucet by the time the bride was walking down the aisle, and most of the wedding guests were forced to take shelter under a canopied area of banquet tables.

Thankfully for Rushmi, despite what Alanis Morissette defines as the ultimate irony, rain on one's wedding day is supposedly a good omen in Hinduism and in India [as it is in Italy, where the saying goes: sposa bagnata, sposa fortunata.]

By far the best part of the night was the bride's side versus groom's side dance-off. I am proud to report that Rushmi's side won overwhelmingly among all attendees and the DJ, after having to put together a last-minute dance number. Turns out the boys were not just calling our bluff: They actually DID choreograph a Bollywood-style dance routine to "Jai Ho!" from Slumdog Millionaire. We. Were. In. Shock. Thankfully, we are all clever girls who think quickly on our feet (literally) and someone had the brilliant idea to simply do the electric slide. Another girl requested it, and as the person there who had by far attended the most bar-mitzvahs, I was nominated to lead everyone in the notorious slide.

Of course, this being India and all, within moments "Electric Feel" by MGMT was blasting through the speakers. Curses. In any case, we persisted and persevered, and eventually the DJs declared us the obvious winners (I think it helped that we had the bride on our side.) I told Karina that there is way that I will ever be caught in this predicament again, and thus she should start choreographing a dance for my wedding immediately.

Another highlight for sure was dancing and singing along to "Empire State of Mind" as the closing song, around 2:30 a.m. There we all were in Bangalore, having flown in from cities as far-flung as New York, LA, Seattle, Tel Aviv, Shangai, even Addis Ababa, breaking it down to Jay-Z and Alicia Keyes, singing our hearts out to the City That Never Sleeps (um, paging Tom Friedman...)

All in all, despite the rain and the lack of a white horse, it was a beautiful wedding that I am sure all those fortunate enough to have attended will remember fondly for years to come. Congratulations, Rushmi and Vikram!

"Get this mother%$#^ing snake, off my mother@&$%ing trail!"

**Mom, before I even begin this story, I just want you to know that no one was hurt.**

Yesterday, we began a two-day romp through the Laotian countryside that was supposed to involve some easy trekking, an elephant ride, and kayaking. It didn't really turn out that way, but it was an adventure nonetheless.

We began our day at the Elephant Village, the starting point for our trek. After our Sapa experience, none of us were really too keen on another intense hike, and we were promised that there was not much trekking involved in this particular tour. You learn to take everything you are told with a grain of salt in Southeast Asia, but we were a bit shocked to learn that our first day would involve 4-5 hours of trekking to get the village where we were to overnight. D'oh.

Thankfully, unlike Sapa, it was a beautiful, partly cloudy and not terribly hot day. We crossed rice paddies, hills, valleys, streams, and enjoyed the vistas through the beautiful countryside just outside Luang Prabang.


Minutes into the trek, our guide (who was great, unlike the Sapa dudes) found a leech on his ankle. While mildly unsettling, it was nothing compared to the LIVE SNAKE we saw on the trail. At one point, our guide stopped dead in his tracks and said, "Whoa, snake!" Just as he said this, Sneaky and I saw a long (probably about two feet) silvery-grey thing dash across the brush. It didn't slither at all--it was VERY fast and appeared to dart into the bushes in a straight line. It was one of the coolest things I have ever seen.

We broke for lunch in the middle of an open meadow, and after one hour of post-lunch walking arrived at the village where we were to spend the night. Hoify is a Khmu (ethnic Cambodian minority) village of approximately 75 families. When we arrived around 3:30 p.m., only the town children and elderly were around; everyone else was working in the fields. They returned around 6:00 p.m.

There are no roads into Hoify, so nothing can be trucked into the village. Everything that comes in must be carried or brought by tractor.



Most people in the village didn't seem too phased by us falang. I imagine they get quite a few tourists coming through. Apart from watching the kids play a traditional ball game, climb trees to pick fruit, the obvious language barrier kept us from more interaction than a wave hello.

Nonetheless, it was really fascinating and uplifting and tragic all at the same time to be in a place where people live such a traditional lifestyle. Laos is one of the poorest countries in the world, and while the NGO presence in Hoify has allowed for the construction of latrines and the harnessing of running water from the mountains into communal bath areas, the poverty can be staggering. At the same time, one realizes that kids are kids, and they can be just as happy playing with a toy car made from garbarge as they would be with a PSP.

Dinner was prepared for us by a widow with three daughters, which is presumably why she was chosen by our NGO-partnered eco-tour company. She runs the three-"room" homestay across the "street" from her one-room house.

After enjoying pork with chilis, bok choy, veggies, sticky rice, soup, and squirrel stew, we cursed ourselves for not thinking to bring along a deck of cards and decided to sample the village's locally-brewed lao lao. The 500 ml beaker we shared was significantly stronger than the stuff we drank at the bowling alley. Our guide told us that it isn't unusual for a Khmu man to drink 1.5 liters of the stuff by himself in one night--the very thought of that nearly made me yak. It also made me realizes why people in rural areas do meth: it's really, really boring to have nothing to do.



Another funny moment was noticing a small child wearing an Osama bin Laden t-shirt. After the three of us gasped, we realized he probably had no idea who the hell was on his shirt, and we were relieved to see his friend in tow in a Scarface t-shirt. There's room somewhere here for a Samuel Huntington/Clash of Civilizations joke, but I'm just too tired to think of it.

All in all, the subdivided thatched hut we slept in (with mosquito netting!) was exponentially more comfortable than Fansipan base camp. Unfortunately, much like in Sapa, we awoke to torrential rains and had to hike the hour back to the Elephant Village in a downpour (thankfully, it was much warmer than in Sapa.) After 20 minutes of elephant riding and still no sign that the rain would clear up, we gave up on the idea of kayaking back into town and tuk-tuked it back.

"Hey, goat! I like your beard. I had a beard like that in A Perfect Storm. You see that movie, goat? Say hi to your mother for me."


Cute enough to make you want to pull an Angelina!

Oh, Fancypants: You minxy little mountain...

Suffice it to say that climbing Fansipan was not the best outdoors experience I've ever had. I should have known when I was handed a pair of purple children's Wellies that this was not going to be a lot of fun...Information that would be have useful the previous day, before we booked.

The climb up to base camp was foggy, steep, and extremely muddy. At times, I sunk almost to my knees in mud, and was definitely thankful for the Wellies. Of course, the downside of them is that--while keeping your feet and ankles dry, clean and free of leeches (yes, a kid I met had a leech on him...gross)--the thin rubber soles are so thin that you feel every single rock, tree root, branch or bamboo stump underfoot. As I write this from a coffee shop in Hanoi two days later, my big toenails still feel bruised enough to fall off.

Also, it rained about 90% of the time, varying between a light mist and moderate showers. So that was great. All our gear was soaking wet by the time we got to base camp, and most of it did not dry overnight because it was so cold.

Base camp was two huts made of tin and bamboo. One had a fire going in it, and the porters made us a pretty impressive dinner feast of bamboo shoots and pork, fried tofu, rice, stir fried chicken, and some other delicacies. The other hut had bamboo "cots"--if you can call them that--lining both sides of the hut. The four of us (Sneaky, Fritz, Cecilia and I) staked out an area, grabbed the warmest looking sleeping bags, and basically slept on top of each other for warmth.

I used to think that I could sleep anywhere, anytime. Trains, cars, planes (usually before take-0ff, even) bars, noisy nightclubs--pretty much anywhere. I will now amend that statement by saying that it turns out that I am unable to sleep on bamboo branches up on a mountain. It is really VERY uncomfortable, and I still have some bruised on my hips and shoulders from where I tried to assume fetal position to keep warm and get comfy. I think none of us slept more than about five minutes at a time, and there was a lot of random waking up and giggling because the whole situation was just so tragically comical. Also, like true Manhattanites, Sneaky and I are both terrified of the dark, and spent a good amount of time worrying about what kind of Blair Witch might await us outside the hut if we had to pee in the middle of the night.

The next morning, after a night of next to no sleep and torrential downpours, I decided that the descent was going to be more than enough to keep me busy, and I decided against climbing the extra 300 meters to actually summit the damn thing. At this point, it was so rainy and foggy, that it was clear we wouldn't be able to see a thing from the top, so I opted to begin heading down with some Canadians who had summited the previous day.

Oh, I should mention that when we had been given the option to summit the previous day, I had said to our guides: "I think it would be better to wait until tomorrow. At least there's a chance we could see something then." To which he replied: "It rains every day this time of year." Once again, information that would have been useful yesterday.

The descent was pretty much uneventful. It continued to rain and we continued to curse the Wellies as we bruised our toes and soles on bamboo shoot stumps and rocks. All in all, it was certainly an adventure. Not one that I think I would recommend, though...