All About Ms. World's World

HELP! I'VE LOST MY SARAH LAWRENCE COLLEGE YEARBOOK circa 1991, 1992, 1994 and I'D LIKE THEM BACK!

If the postman or post-woman recently delivered you a box that included a Sarah Lawrence College yearbook from 1991, 1992, or 1994 and you don't know who or what Sarah Lawrence College is (just the best and wildest liberal arts college in the U.S.), please contact me via e-mail at chilande2001@yahoo.com.

The post office lost my Sarah Lawrence College yearbooks and other items and delivered onto me a series of books about diplomacy, foreign affairs, and Islam which seem to be related to course(s) taught by
Dr. Mohammed Ayoob of Michigan State University. If this sounds familiar, please contact me at chilande2001@yahoo.com since I don't need any books that don't belong to me (I have enough books!).

Please note that I want my yearbooks back but I won't pay anyone a ton of money for them.

The 411

My life is all about networking to get a j-o-b! URGH! I'm also working on getting my fire (as my mother calls it) or my mojo (as my brother calls it) back.

Yes, it is true that doing the past several months, I've lost my groove(or fire or mojo). And honestly, my life isn't the same without it pumping through my veins and getting me psyched about life.

I can't seem to get very excited about anything these days besides my niece, drinking coffee, seeing friends since I now live near a few of them, new meeting people since I know less than 10 people in the area, and books. This isn't conducive to gaining employment. I do my best not to think about my past world travels or my time in Japan because I fall into nostaglia-land which isn't conducive to gaining employment either.

I miss my mojo (fire, groove). I feel like part of me is gone. I'm so blah. And people have called me many names in my life but never blah. I hope it is a seasonal issue or once every few years occurence. I look forward to snapping out of it.

Mourning

I have a quiet truth that I must share with you all. I'm in mourning. For what you ask? For my former life. I miss Japan but the bigger truth is that I miss what my life in Japan represented- opportunities to travel, exploration, adventure, and lots of fun.

Yes, I did work during my 2 year tenure as an English teacher. However, the teaching bit came a little easy to me.  I'm a born organizer and planner, so I was always on top of my lesson planning. Work was easy for me. My after-school life was good, sometimes amazing. I miss knowing that I have 20 days of vacation to use for my pleasure and dreaming and making plans to go to countries in Southeast Asia, East Asia, or Oceania. How many Americans have jobs that give them 20 days of vacation a year? I've also realized that I'm a very social person. I have not having a significant social circle in my life. I have friends in the U.S. but most of the them are on the East Coast or West Coast. I have few friends in the Midwest.

Honestly, I feel like I had an amazing life in Japan. Now I'm back in the U.S. and I feel sentenced to a life of work and no travel. I miss having the opportunity, time, and funds to travel to different countries. I feel like a sort of travel lust monster was created when I landed in Japan.

Please note that the photo was taken by Dr. Mike S.

On The Verge

                                                         Today is a reading day. My goal is to complete On Writing Well which is a simple yet brilliant book about writing. However, instead of reading the book, I've been worried about my next step in life. What is a young woman with a fine education, strong writing skills, a love of travel, and no foreign language mastery going to do for money? I'm stumped too! I'd also want to continue indulging in my love of travel which means I need more than 2 weeks of vacation per year.

When my mind ventures into this territory, I kept thinking about applying to this organization.  I even thinking about joining this organization too. During the fall of 2002, I applied for a Fulbright grant to study in India and to the JET Program for a teaching spot. I also signed up to take the Foreign Service exams for the U.S. State Department. I got my applications for the Fulbright and JET in on time. But I skipped out on the Foreign Service exam because I had no time to prepare for it (The Fulbright application took up all of my time when I wasn't working full-time or completing a business reporting course to finish my master's degree.). Now I think I could be State Department material but the next test is April 2007!

DIGGING

Today I went digging and mistakenly unearthed my past. My past loves and collectables, all in the form of books. It wasn’t my intention to excavate my literary past. In fact, it was all an innocent game of “I need to find that book.” The book in question is Anne Lamont’s creative writing classic "Bird by Bird." A book I brought in 1998 with hopes that it would help me break a creative gridlock I was experiencing as I worked on numerous essays for graduate school applications. The book was recommended to my by a friend, Aaron, a Californian intellectual, who I adored and worked with at the Guggenheim Museum. It is so ironic because I still have the book but I lost touch with Aaron after entering graduate school in Indiana.

So, after putting out the garbage for tomorrow’s collection, I went book diving in my mother’s basement. It was harder than I expected work. I had forgotten about the boxes because newer white boxes had supplanted them with Japanese characters printed all over them. The boxes from Japan had been placed on top of the older boxes and held fresher, more recent memories for me to comb through at my leisure.

Picking up boxes which hadn’t been moved in over 2 years was a little exhausting but worth the price. I had found lost treasures such as my small but priceless Toni Morrison collection, playwright Adrienne Kennedy’s “People Who Led to My Plays,” and a copy of Ntozake Shange’s “Sassafras, Cypress, & Indigo” which seemed to save my life one dark night in San Francisco during the late nineties.

There were books that represented previous aspirations like a copy of "Teach Yourself Hindi.” I can’t believe I own that book! The idea of teaching myself Hindi actually sounds pretty ridiculous now but in 2002 I was a convert. (I even took a Hindi class at CUNY). I uncovered college yearbooks (I have every year except my junior year which I spent in Italy). which reminded me of my glory days in the ivory tower at Sarah Lawrence. I found remnants of three semesters spent in journalism school in the Midwest when I picked up a large textbook on First Amendment Law.

Finding forgotten books was also like remembering pieces of me that have fallen away or died hard deaths. I have a collection of books on soul mates. This idea makes me smile and laugh now. I have nothing against the idea of soul mates but I’m so happy that I’m no longer looking for one. I also have a small collection of sassy, feminist, and sexy books by Seal Press. I won’t divulge the titles because family members may read this.

But the biggest surprise in my literary excavation was the discovering of 3 books, “Let’s Go Australia,” “Let's Go India & Nepal,” and “Let’s Go Southeast Asia. All of these books were dated 2001. Two copies of these out of date travel guides have covers ripped off of them, which tells me that I picked them up during a stint working at a bookstore, probably Barnes & Noble (I did enjoy their employee discount on books and in the café!).

I can understand me picking up travel guides that were on the verge of being dumped on the street. But I can’t fathom why I have a fully intact copy of Let’s Go Southeast Asia. Did I have any hopes or desires of going to Southeast Asia at that time in my life? I don’t remember so, I decided to rescue the three Let’s Go travel guides from the forgotten-land of my basement.

These three books represented my past and presented. In 2002, I desperately wanted to travel to India. Australia & Southeast Asia would have been places on my mythical long “Places I Want To See Before I Die” List but that is the past.

It is now the summer of 2006 and I have a little intimate knowledge of the places listed in each of the books. I know what dosas taste like and I know to avoid masala dosas because I can’t take inferno they form in my mouth. I learned this lesson in Pune, then in Karnataka and Tamil Nadu. I know that Melbourne, Victoria, is a place that you definitely want to take the time to visit because it is a lovely European city in the place called OZ. And I know that winters in Eastern Australia feel like autumn on the East Coast of the U.S. I also know that if you want great beaches for cheap without stepping over a thousand other tourists, leave Thailand behind for the spectacular beaches of Malaysia or if you are very adventurous hit the beach in Cambodia.

After paging through the books, I’ve decided they can be trashed. I don’t need them anymore. I have seen some of those places described between the pages of each book. And honestly, I can’t believe it. Sometimes I can’t believe how far I’ve come.

Ms. World Flips the Traveling Script

There comes a time when a person has to abandon their plans, expectations, hopes and embark on a different path in hopes of salvaging what is left of themselves, their hopes, and sometimes their sanity . This knowledge struck me dead on my head on New Year's Eve in Mumbai.

I was at a club with Sexxy Jimmy and the JET gang. We were psyched to be spending New Year's Eve in the cosmopolitan hub of Bombay. We ended up at Not Just Jazz By the Bay club hoping to crash their holiday party. We had the money to get in but we had no idea what the hell was going on or the rules of the game. I made my way to the front of the pack hoping to get some information on entry requirements. A man working the door kindly told me what was going on, so I reported back to the JET gang. Basically, there were tickets still available for the club's all you can drink and eat New Year's bash. The cost of entry was 2500 INR (Indian rupees) for couples, while tickets for a single person was 1500 INR. We decided to abandon the club hopping idea and spend the evening partying at Not Just Jazz By the Bay.

I got out my money to buy a singles ticket since the JET gang has been great about me sharing their plush hotel rooms and only paying a fraction of the cost (I'm working on a backpackers budget!). So, I went up to pay for a singles ticket and the man working the door wouldn't sale it to me. I was confused and shocked since I was just told about 5 minutes ago that there were a bevy of tickets available. I got really pissed off especially since I was familiar with the stories of Mumbai establishments not allowing Africans on their premises (Please not that very few people I've encountered in India have figured out by simply looking at me that I'm American.) I also had read an article discussing anti-African prejudice in Mumbai in a recent edition of TIME OUT MUMBAI.

I stepped away from the register with the JET gang to plan our next move, when a guy approached us looking to become part of an instant couple. So now the problem was solved and myself and the guy approached the register to buy a "couples" ticket. The same man who didn't want to sale me a "singles" ticket was stunned to see me with this guy. It took us a little time to buy a couples ticket even though we had the 2500 INR ready to hand over. The man's behavior was bizarre. He basically didn't want to sell us a ticket but he had too. We went into the club and I was fuming.

Basically, I'm was fed up. I've definitely encountered more bullshit in India than any other country that I've ever travelled in. Sometimes I deal with the B.S. well and it rolls off my back. However, I haven't reached enlightenment yet, so sometimes I counter the madness by offering my own special recipe of bitchiness. The JET gang was getting their drink and party on and I was standing around pissed. However, my pissiness wasn't about this incident but a culmination of events.

Several days earlier, I went to the New Delhi Railway station to try to buy a train ticket to Amritsar. I waited in line when the usual Indian standing in line shenanigans occurred (massive cutting in line, etc.). However, since I had been in India for over 2 months, I wasn't in the mood to let 10 people cut in the line ahead of me while I'm standing patiently with a 16 kilo backpack on. I basically jostled and pushed to establish my place in the line and people got pissed at me. I guess I wasn't playing the "dumb foreigner" role very well.

Then the computers at the current reservation area went down. It was a mini-disaster but I continued to hold my own in the line. Then an older gentleman asked me to take off my backpack because it was bumping into him. I kindly told the man that I apologize for the bumping however, "I can't take it off. If I take it off and put it next to me and something happens to it- NO ONE IN THIS ROOM IS GOING TO HELP ME!" The older gentleman looked at me begrudgingly.

Then some man in the front of the line tried to convince me that the "line was over" and I should leave. I looked at him like he was on crack. And why would I listen to someone on crack?

Once the computers were working again, the pushing and angling in line for that one more inch of space that would somehow propel the pusher to the front of the line continued. Then the railway employee (working behind the window plated desk) joined the madness by decreeing that he wanted a "single" line. I thought he was joking because I've never seen anyone in a single file line since I've entered the country. Of course, joker's edict was met with even more pushing in order to make a suitable single file line.

This the part of the story that should get better because there is an end insight but it doesn't. Since I've decided to follow Indian Airlines new advertising motto and "be Indian," I've now pushed, jostled and angled myself to the front of the line. Soon I will enter the heavenly gates of current reservation and actually be able to hand my completed train form to the railway employee, except one man doesn't like the fact I'm ahead of him, so he starts trying to push me out of line. I guess this man didn't know that I'm Black, don't like being bullied, not in the mood to take shit, and been in India for more than a week. I yelled at him, "Don't you dare!" then I pushed all of my weight plus the 16 kilo backpack on him and successfully shoved him into a corner (Please note that he was a medium sized Indian man.). A shoving match ensued for all possible guests waiting in the current reservation room of the New Delhi Railway Station.

In the end it was a tie in the shoving contest. The railway employee took his form first which isn't shocking since I'm a foreigner and female. Once I gave my form to the railway worker, I was told that there were no more tickets available for the train to Amritsar. I wasn't surprised by his response. There may or may have not been tickets on the train. I didn't care. I felt good because I stood up for myself.

I ended up taking a 10 hour bus ride from Delhi to Amritsar. It was a hellish bus ride on a government bus which had couple and 3-people seating. I made the mistake of seating with a small person and a big person which meant that there was only room for half of my body on the end of the seat. (Please note there wasn't enough space to move around freely and I needed to sit in the front to keep an eye on my backpack). I spent 10 hours pushing, shoving, and maneuvering my body in various positions hoping to get comfortable. Please note that I never got comfortable. I would get into short body pushing matches with an older big-sized Sikh gentleman seating next to me.

Once people finally started getting off the bus at various stops, the Sikh gentleman motioned for me to move to the back. "No, I'm not going back there. I'm a woman and a foreigner. You can go back there." Neither of us moved and we remained locked into shoving body combat until the bus stopped in Amritsar. He probably emerged the winner but I didn't care because I stood my ground.

By the time I met up with Sexxy Jimmy & the JET gang, my behavior had regressed to an over aggressive 2-year old. The only word I seemed to know was, "no," because I had been singing and shouting it from Delhi to Amritsar and back. I had dealt with frustration in India but now I was dealing with the stress of countering bully tactics (in my opinion). Honestly, I felt like people, mostly men, were out to bully me and I wasn't having it.

I thought about all of this as I stood apart from the party while refusing all drink requests. I was in India and I was miserable. I'm living my dream and I'm miserable. I'm spending money which took me 2 years to save and utilizing time which is always a precious commodity and I'm miserable. How many times have I thought about getting on an airplane as soon as possible and leaving India? Too many. I was tired and frustrated. However, I never booked a departure ticket because I know it isn't time for me to leave India yet. I still long to see a little more of the country but something or me(if I'm the problem) has to change. So, I decided on the eve of a new year to throw my previously hashed plans in the rubbish bin and start out on a new path. I would cancel my train ticket to Varanasi as soon as possible, buy a airline ticket to Bangalore or take the bus to Goa. It was time to see another side of India - South India.

I must say that my first decision of the new year was a good one. The south is a different country. I feel like my experience in India has shifted 360 degrees. It is so laid-back. And things are much easier for me here even though I'm doing lots of government bus travel. I feel like South India is the India that I have been dreaming of for years. Let's all hail the South!

Please read this post-script to this weblog post if you have time. Please note that this post isn't anti-India or anti-traveling.

I know I'm Weeks Late But

                                                               

Happy Belated New Year's! I hope 2006 brings you all lots of love, happiness, good health, peace and soul!

There are a number of bloggers such as Diva Chai and Diva Coffey who have done thought-provoking posts looking back on 2005 and expressing their hopes for the new year, well I'm in no state to do that. 2006 snook up on my fine ass like the bird flu. I turned around and it was staring me in the face and I felt so unprepared (I hope that isn't some kind of omen for the year.). I'm so wrapped up in my traveller's alternate universe that I easily lose track of the days, weeks, and months. I haven't been still enough to contemplate my hopes for the new year. I will admit to praying for a smooth and successful transition to the "real world" once I run out of money or decide to go home to the U.S.

Leaving Pune

   

Please note that I left Pune, Maharashtra on December 23, 2005.

Leaving Pune was easy and hard. It was easy because it was simply time for me to move on. I longed to see more India and to have more experiences. It was hard because I had carved out a little space in my heart where the place called Pune became tangled up in my definition of home.

I had a sizeable, high-ceiling, no heat room to call my home in M. House. I had a good friend Diva Brooke who was down with Akanksha too, so we shared rickshaws, stories, food, laughter and frustrations. I was also blessed to meet other great people, such as Diva Kathleen, Ms. Berlin aka Diane, Holland Spice aka Kim who added lots of light to my days. I had found a great place to get pedicures and other beauty treatments. I knew of several delicious and cheap restaurants in Pune. I had even figured out the rickshaw mafia. And more importantly, I had gotten very use to going to three different Akanksha centers during the week. Alas, all good things eventually come to an end.

It was difficult to say goodbye to the boys and girls at the Ashram center. I visited there 2 days a week. I was put in charge of the class of 14-18 years olds (mostly boys). I always gave my best and openly shared my life experiences with them. We had great discussions about life, responsibility, dreams, in addition to creating collages and writing prose. I was very proud of the fact that I got them to do lots of writing exercises (in English) since I was told the boys didn't like to write. My time with the Ashram kids was the highlight of my Akanksha experience. I do think it was easy for me to grow to adore all of the kids at Akanksha because I kept seeing myself in them all. I see them and I also see the best that India has. I see them and pray to God that India can fulfill a very important promise made in 1947 to improve the lives of its less fortunate brethren. I said goodbye to them and prayed that one day I would get a letter from them in a few years telling me of their burgeoning prospects in life. I also hope to read about a few of them in India Today in the coming decades or break bread with them in the U.S. while they are on a holiday or business trip.

I can feel the electricity of hope in the air in Indian cities. India is on the rise and the middle and upper classes are rocking out on it. I hope that giddiness of hope can trickle down to the daughters and sons of the masses. I really hope India can produce more people, especially females, who are the equivalent of me (a girl coming from a working class background who now has two advanced degrees and enough money to travel around the world). I wish Prime Minister Singh and the Congress-wallah lots of luck!

My (Traveler) Confessions

1. I have no idea what is going on beyond the borders of India since I'm not reading the New York Times online on a frequent basis. I usually read an Indian newspaper several times a week but my favorite section is "lifestyle" oriented. Basically, I have no idea what is going on in the U.S.

2. I've only called my mother twice, possibly three times since I hit the traveler's trail in August. I barely e-mail my friends. I know that I'll have to rebuild my old and new (Japan-related) friendships when I return to the U.S. next year.

3. I'm so absorbed in my travels or myself that it hasn't really registered that 2005 is almost up.

4. I've probably done too little souvenir shopping in my travels. I figure I'll make up for it in India and on my next stop.

5. Sometimes I wish I had planned an around the world trip to the beach destinations of the world. However, I wouldn't be growing if I sat on a beach for the last 4 months.

6. Even though I'm living my dream, right now I feel surrounded by confusion. However, Diva Diane, a Pune mate, believes confusion can come about when one has to deal with lots of choices. She also sees confusion as a precursor to transitions. I'm definitely living a life full of choices. And I have a huge transition to deal with once I return to the U.S. next year.

7. Writing- I won't even get into that topic.

8. I think I think way too much for my own good.

9. I have no idea how I'm going to go from world traveling backpacker to an American actually living in America.

10. I will be spending Thanksgiving & Christmas 2006 in the U.S.A.

11. I really miss Essence magazine and other publications featuring lots of Black people.

The Current Truth about India

This post is dedicated to Diva Angela who writes so honestly and forthrightly about her life.

In retrospect, after my episode of crying and screaming into a towel in hopes that I wouldn't disturb the other patrons at Mumbai Central's YMCA, the manic pacing around a charmless room, before a hard fall to the floor where I prayed to God for guidance out of a stupid mess of my making, Mumbai was easy.

In fact, Mumbai was easy, sweet, and masala-licious. Of course, the credit for my seduction can't be laid at the feet of Bombay, Mumbai, or whatever name they may come up with depending on who is in power. It is all due to the lovely hospitality of that Mumbai writing diva- Ms. Uma. I have to add that her family named her well when they named her after a goddess. I also have to give a huge shout out (as we say in the hood) to Locana's architect, Mr. Anand who showed me lots of kindness too. A few friendly people can really change the texture and view of a place, even the amazing chaos called Bombay/Mumbai.

Once I got myself sorted out by listening to God, I shifted (as the Indians would say) to the YWCA in Colaba. I knew I was in the right place at the right time when I met at least 2 new people everyday, got recruited to do voice-overs for an British/Indian (think Bend It Like Beckham) film, never ate alone, visited Elephanta Island, brought baby clothes for Lady T's twin girls, and met Poornima, an up and coming Bangalorean tennis sensation. It was hard for me to leave Mumbai but after 10 days I did.

I gathered up all my courage and put on one of my new salwar kameezs and boarded Indian Railways train bound for Ajmer, Rajasthan. I was making my way all by myself to Pushkar for the annual camel festival. I was excited but mostly terrified. However, the second class air-con sleeper train car is easy enough for anyone to travel. I got stared at a lot but a nice teen girl in my section was kind enough to induct me into the mysteries of the railway life.

Less than 24 hours into my first Indian train trip, I was jumping off the train and landing in Ajmer. Ajmer was a shock to myself! I followed some Europeans who seemed to have the keys to the promise land meaning they had a clue where the bus depot was. One scenic and hectic bus ride later, I was in Pushkar, one of the holiest Hindu cities in India. However, I didn't feel very spiritual in Pushkar but more like assaulted by life going on in the streets. Pushkar was a bitch-slap in the face to an urbanite like myself. I thought Bombay/Mumbai was India. But Pushkar is India too and it is the India you may have read about. It is organized chaos, the Brahmin priest who really doesn't seem very priest-like, the cows, the dogs, people trying to get their hustle on, people asking for money. There is so much more to the description but I can't put it into words. Is this India?

I arrived in Pushkar 3 full days before the start of the camel festival in hopes of securing affordable accomodations. My mission was accomplished but 2 days into the stated dates of the festival, I couldn't figure out what was going. I went to a "bullock decoration competition" with the Great Danish duo, Julie and Soonen, but we didn't actually see any decorated bullocks. I finally got a hold of the schedule of events for the camel mela and discovered to my surprise that all the events that I was dying to see, such as the camel race, would occur after my planned departure. I tried to change my train tickets but realized this is India, so I could rearrange my plans and still not see a camel race.

So, what did I do in Pushkar? I saw lots of camels but decided to ride one on a safari in Jasailmer. I met two German babes, Jenny and Uta. I ate yummy pizza. I got depressed about the fact that there seemed to be too many supposedly Brahmin priest who wanted to rip me off. Please note I didn't get ripped off because I'm a tough cookie. I got stared at a lot. I got solicited for drugs. I saw a naked sadhu do something weird with his penis. I had a crowd of Indian guys, yell, "big boss," at me. The merchants also liked to cry "full power," "good health," whenever I crossed their paths. It took me a while to realize all the name-calling was concerning moi. Is this India?

On the fourth day of the camel festival, I bid au revoir to Pushkar. I was now bound for Pune, Maharashtra on Indian Railways in the third class air-conditioner sleeper. I had a horrible night's rest. My section was filled with a family making a pilgrimage. The matriarch had some words with one of the daughters which brought tears to her eyes. One of the daughter's stared at me like I was dirt, so I sent the same energy spiraling back at her. The kids were curious but kept to themselves. Once they found out I was American, I guess I was deemed ok. One of the husbands/sons of the family was very kind to me though. Some strange man slept on our section's floor. I thought he was part of the family but he wasn't. I was elated when the train rode into Mumbai's Bandra Terminus.

I'm now in Pune which is a city of 3 million located about 4 hours away from Mumbai. I'm in Pune hoping, praying, to get a glance into India life while volunteering at Akanksha. However, the texture and view of my Indian journey is ever changing.

I'm may still be in throws of culture shock but I've seen a few aspects of India which don't sit well with me. 1) There seems to be a major preference for white skin in Indian society. This saddens and baffles me. I didn't think it affected me as much when I was in Mumbai because it is a metropolis with a certain cosmopolitan air about it. I do feel this preference stifling me in Pune. However I know it isn't my issue but it pisses me off and makes me feel like a fool. How could I feel a connection or have an interest in a place or with a group of people who can't see their own beauty? Basically, if Indians ain't loving themselves then they definitely ain't gonna have love for me. 2) I don't care what they say-the caste system is still in effect! People like to gloss over this facet of Indian society. Honestly, I consider racism to be one of the vilest human practices around but I'll take American-style racism over the caste system any day.

Now on the positive tip- 1) Akanksha rocks. The kids I'm working with are as amazing and bright as I thought they would be. I see myself in all of them and pray they will have an opportunity to live up to their potential. 2) I use to be about "surviving India" but now I've decided to be the bad-ass Black woman I was raised to be, so India now has to "survive Ms. World." This means India will have to survive me saying hello to all the wide-eyed, staring folks who have never laid eyes on a big, strong, proud Black woman. It also means India will have to deal with my roaring laugh while I try to process the organized chaos surrounding. Please note this is a very Japanese thing to do. The desi folks will also get a taste of Ms. World's raw side which means I'm going to be vocal about the fact that the current Indian economic miracle is only benefiting 1/3 of the people. I have to add that Indian poverty defies my Western definition of poverty. My working-class Black girl childhood looks like the Tatas in the Midwest compared to the slums of Mumbai or Pune. However, the elite of India is beyond being over the top. I don't understand why there haven't been more riots about the economic inequalities here. Are Bollywood movies made of a mind-controlling substance like TV is in the U.S. for poor people? 3) I think I've learned that it is up to me and only me regarding my "belonging" anywhere. Did I belong in Japan? Do I belong in India? Some people think I don't but I don't give a shit. It is up to me where and with whom I belong to. Right now, I'm claiming Japan even though I ain't got a lick of Japanese blood in me but I grew into myself deeply in the land of the rising sun. I'm claiming Africa, the entire continent, despite the objections of the Nigerians brothers I've met in Southeast Asia who don't understand American Blacks calling themselves Africans. Africa, of Africa, even though I don't know where my ancestors came from, your name is written all over my face. I'm claiming Ireland because my Cousin Ryumi is one of my main aces and my momma's name hails from the land of Eire. And I'm claiming Italy because it was the first taste of my traveling dream manifesting into a reality. I'm claiming Scandinavia since my daddy's name is traced there. Am I claiming India? That is the question that remains unanswerable at this time. 

I want to give a big thanks to Amardeep for the blog hook-ups! Please note that I have no malicious intent in airing my current feelings about India. I appreciate all the kindness and openness many Indians have extended my way via my weblog or through wanting to initiate personal contact with me doing my time here.