Back Home In The Napa Whine Country

Here we are at home again. We made it. With a little money to spare – actually we just spent that money getting some clothing for Rachel. But we are home anyway.

See, a bunch of friends gave Rachel clothes, t-shirts, dresses, shoes, that kind of stuff – which was really appreciated by the way -- but everything wound up being too big. So we are just putting the clothes towards the back of her closet and feeding her lots of protein.

The trip back was almost an experience of its own. First off, our overpriced hotel, The Imperial, kind of redeemed itself. Apparently the crowd at the front desk thought Rachel was so cute they all went in on a Barbie doll for her. Rachel loves the doll, which is blond and lights up. I doubt the front desk people asked for input from the rotten old concierge. Still, the concierge was all smiles as we left, which made me wonder if he was really charmed by Rachel or just relieved to see us leave.

Then to the Delhi Gandhi Airport, which, considering it is named for Mahatma Gandhi, has a pretty decent food court. (Sorry, bad joke -- couldn’t resist. Joking about hunger-striking is really in bad taste, excuse the pun.)

When we all got to the Indian immigration desk we practically got a standing ovation from several immigration officers who realized we are adopting Rachel and bringing her to live with us in the US. One of the immigration officers said "God will bless you for adopting her." I said "He already has."

Another passenger making his way through said he was a journalist and when he heard that we are going to the US with our adopted child he said he wanted to do a story on us. He was a very friendly Indian guy with a turbine (I think that means he is a Sinkh). We all took photos of each other, arm in arm, with many smiles all around. Cynical traveler that I am, I checked to make sure I still had my wallet.

It was still there. The reporter told us he would be reporting on us on the following websites:

http://www.mediapunjab.com/
http://www.europepunjab.com/
http://www.aj-de-awaz.com/

and I can't read his writing on the fourth website. If anyone finds that we really are written about on any of these websites please let me know. I hope the reporter doesn't describe the adoptive parents as "disheveled" but that is kind of how we felt.

The flight home was OK, except everywhere that Singapore Airlines stopped, we had to get off the plane and go through security again. That got old. But Rachel managed to sleep most of the way, so she has gotten over the time change faster than Martina and me.

The next morning we slept right through our alarm clock and missed church. But Martina, Rachel and I went to visit several friends, including Chelene, Marlowe, Geneva, Holly, Walt, and Sharon. To my astonishment I heard that someone had disseminated this blog address throughout the church. I rushed home to re-read the blog and make sure none of my jokes were off-color. Well, not too off-color.

A number of people asked me about the restaurant that never gave us any silverware. On our last full day in Delhi, during our Delhi tour we stopped at the Sheraton Hotel, looking for a restaurant that serves foreign food, but mostly to Americans so it is not too intestinally-exhilarating, if you know what I mean.

We went to a place that served some familiar items, but everything was “kabob” this or "kabob" that. When our food was brought to us we noticed we had no silverware. “No problem,” Martina and I told each other. “We’re world travelers, we can do it. We’ll eat with our hands. Heck, we’ll even drink with our hands if that is how they do it here.”

I’m probably building this one up too much, but we survived the meal eating with our hands. Towards the end of the meal I told Martina that it would be a good joke if they waited until we finished and came to us and said “so sorry. We forgot your silverware. Here it is.”

Well, at least we had cups to drink from, not a pitcher to pour water into our hands to drink.

So that is our experience with the hand-eating restaurant and the trip in general. Not too horrifying, pretty expensive most of the time, and while two of us went there, three of us returned. It is good to be back – no, it is GREAT to be back! Martina and I feel like experts on Indian adoptions, so feel free to ask if you get the urge.

--Tom

Here is one of the first photos of Rachel after she got off the plane in San Francisco. Mary, Rachel's sister, and Joe, Rachel's brother-in-law, picked us up and brought us to Nathan's place where 14 family members welcomed Rachel. I couldn't resist asking Andrew, our 7-year old grandson if he could babysit his aunt someday.

Here is Rachel after a long day's travel in her new bed. That is her Dora The Explorer doll next to her.

Although we never found anything missing, we are pretty sure our house got broken into while we were gone. The burglar covered his or her tracks by attaching an "It's a Girl" balloon on our mailbox, cleaning the kitchen, sweeping off our back deck and hanging up this "Welcome home" sign on our fireplace. We weren't fooled and we called the cops immediately.

Just kidding Holly! Thanks for the homecoming!

Delhi Is Not Hong Kong

We searched for Delhi versions of all our standard American hang-outs and came up dry. I took a late afternoon cabride in search of an American-style mall and also struck out. Let’s face it: even the most well-heeled traveler needs to find a place that reminds them of home. If we were in Hong Kong, no problem. Go hang out at Tsim Cha Tsui (or however it is spelled), or one of the shopping centers next to a Metro stop. But alas, Delhi is not Hong Kong. There is really nothing here that makes an American feel like home. I managed to find a Starbucks Frappucino bottle and that was a great accomplishment. I’ll have to settle for that. We are ready to go home.

But Delhi is not a total bust. The prices are actually OK. Take for example this over-priced hotel we are at: The Imperial. If we stayed in a hotel like this in the US it would probably be over $600 a night, whereas we are paying only $350 a night. Maybe the concierge accounts for the lower price, I don't know.

And the taxi cab rides are not so bad either. This cab ride we took for 4 hours touring the city cost us only $14. Of course that taxi took us to a horribly-overpriced restaurant where they never gave us any silverware (more on that later), but that wasn't the driver's fault.

So basically Delhi is a good, fairly-inexpensive place to go. Just barely exotic enough to impress people that you have been there, but not too far off. And the Delhi Belly thing, well, diarrhea is diarrhea, no matter what clever or glamorous nickname it is given. A sprint to the toilet in Mexico is the same as a sprint to the toilet in India. Well, maybe a little slower in Mexico because you're wearing sandels, but you get the point.

--Tom

Prayer

I realized today as I was dozing off that we have given a bit of a travelogue of our adventures in India. We’ve also given you a peek into our bonding with this amazing child. However, we have forgotten to write what is very much in our hearts. This entire adventure and the miracle of Rachel is all because the Lord is so very good.

We have been praying constantly throughout this journey, especially here in India. As we are surrounded by idol after idol on the walls, in the streets, everywhere, we keep thanking the one true God for His choosing us to parent this little child. We have prayed with her at every meal and at bedtime and sometimes in between. I believe in that future day when she has her own very personal relationship with the Savior. Tom is a real prayer warrior. We prayed at the orphanage, the courthouse, the American Embassy (repeatedly) and the doctor’s office. Our Lord Jesus answered by smoothing the way.

I’m more of a coward. If I said grace in a restaurant it would have been something like, “Thank you, Lord for this food. Amen.” But Tommy prays here in public just as if we were at home at our own dinner table. He thanks Jesus for our marriage, our brave little child, our trip, and of course, our food. Waiters are often standing by waiting for him to finish. I have the most wonderful husband in the world. I wish that all who know him could know his love for our Lord also.

So, we go home tomorrow beginning with a taxi at 4 a.m. to Gandhi International Airport. Then on to Singapore, Hong Kong, and San Francisco. I’m sure we will be praying the entire way.

I can’t wait to get home!

Love, M

Hangin out with Rachel

We gave the camera to Rachel and she took this picture of Martina and me. It might have left out our faces but that was actually OK. My hair was messed up and Martina was mid-blink so she would have looked weird anyway.










Now this photo shows a loyal wife. An otherwise unremarkable photo, but notice that it cuts off my spare tire. All wives should learn from Martina how to take pictures of their husbands.







India Gate in the background.

I had to get this picture of the dressed-up guy in the traditional Indian get-up. The guy next to him invited himself into the picture and I didn't have the heart to tell him to move a few feet to the left.

Some adorable pictures of Rachel.

Rachel about to have another bubble bath, so of course she was all smiles.

This was such a big smile that you can't tell Rachel is missing a front tooth!

Our day trip around Delhi

India Gate from another direction. This monument is very famous.

It became a challenge to take pictures of each other and not have someone walk into the shot. Here Martina got a picture of me, and I think I was sucking in my stomach successfully but this Indian guy wanted to be a part of the picture too.

Some street scenes.

Gee, I wonder why Delhi has so many brown-outs. You think it might have something to do with the electricity over-loads like this one?

A few years ago I could do this without a drop of sweat, like this guy.

More street scenes.

Another famous monument. This time two people wandered into the shot.

I think it is called the Red Gate or something. Well something Red anyway. Very famous.

This place looked famous but I have no idea what it is. I almost made up something clever to impress you, but my honesty won out.

This is part of the Indian capitol complex.

Kind of a round, curvy Parliament building.

More of the same capitol building, and this guy wanted to be in the picture.

This is a famous gate in front of the main capitol rotunda building. Several people wanted to be in this picture and we did not have the nerve to tell them to skedaddle.

This guy wouldn't remove himself from an otherwise nice shot of this capitol building. At least we got him before he sucked in his gut. Serves him right...

This is that round, curvy Parliament building again.

Thursday in Delhi

Here is a photo of Rachel in one of her first bubble-baths. She just LOVES bubble-baths.

Today we were supposed to go to the Taj Mahal but after a nice but expensive breakfast we realized that we were experiencing the "Delhi Belly" which is probably a more ubiquitous Indian landmark. So we stayed in the hotel room and nursed our sickness.

We did manage to go out shopping today, but it was more like being picked on for four blocks. In the process we learned how totally worthless our over-priced hotel's concierge was. We wanted a basic American-style shopping experience where we could buy some supplies for the trip home. You know, batteries for the camera, vitamin C, t-shirts for Rachel. More Pepsid would be nice. In other words, no handicrafts or haggling or offers to take us to a better shopping area etc. etc. etc. The concierge gave us a map and told us we could find anything we wanted about four blocks away. Once we were on the street we were covered with people offering to sell us various carved goods, necklaces, shoe-shines, and on and on and on. For FOUR BLOCKS! One guy never got the message that I did not want to buy his carved snake and I almost grabbed it and threw it into traffic. But I restrained myself and kept saying "No!"

We did see one sad thing, however. As we turned a corner to make our way back to the hotel we could barely see through our entourage an Indian guy in an almost-nice business suit face down on the ground, totally still. A small group of people around him looked at him but kind of shrugged their shoulders. We couldn't tell how long that guy had been down there on the ground like that, but when someone turned him over he seemed to be kind of stiff.

I wanted to try some CPR because I thought the guy was having a heart attack, but Martina, viewer of many more CSI episodes than I, said, "no, he is already dead. RM has already set in." She walked on and I decided to stay with her. I hope she was right. But so far as I could tell no one else was doing anything helpful. And of course we were still covered with this swarm of solicitors, so we were really in full retreat mode anyway. Who knows, if I started pumping on that guy's chest someone might have offered to sell me some used surgical gloves or maybe they would want to offer us all a ride to a hospital further away than the one nearby. Or maybe sell me that carved snake to use in clearing that guy's throat, or who knows... It was all pretty bad.

And what about the people in Delhi? Not just the pests, but the average guy or gal here? The Raj and Indira 6-pack. I for one have noticed many differences between this crowd and the people from Pune. Much more western dress here, and it seems as if the facial features in Pune were more of a Pakistani/Persian mix, whereas here in Delhi it looks as if there is more of a mix with Chinese features. And lighter skin color.

And that head-wagging is not so prevelent here. Oh, that's right, we never explained that. In Pune we started noticing that instead of nodding yes, the people there would wag their head, so that the top of the head would go one way left or right and the chin the other way. I tried to do it myself but Martina told me my neck needed to stay still and the head needed to just wag on its own. And by the time I had this perfected we flew to Delhi where I can't use it as much. The next time I am in the US and meet someone from the Mumbai area I will give it a try to see if I still have the touch. Good thing we have Rachel so I can use it on her.

And speaking of Rachel, she is really loosening up, so much so that we almost miss that shy, quiet girl we picked up at the orphanage a few days ago. She is constantly talking Marathi to us, and we are trying our best to understand her and talk English back to her. Kind of like that movie, 1941, where the German soldier and the Japanese submarine guys are all talking their own languages to each other and they all seemed to understand each other. (The viewer understands too because there are English subtitles. That movie was a classic!) Anyway, Rachel is so energetic and constant that we are nick-naming her "Our Little Monsoon."

Well, tomorrow is our last full day here and then we go home. Everything seems to be paid up, including our return air tickets (Rachel's ticket had to be paid separately -- long story there). I never did care for Neal Diamond music but the tune "Coming To America" is totally stuck in my mind. And not the elevator-music version without vocals -- in my mind Neal Diamond is singing away with that voice of his. Yes, that, well, horsey Neal Diamond voice... It goes on and on... Some people like his voice. I guess.

Till tomorrow!

--Tom

Pics to go with the last two days