The n00b Files - Week 1 of Transplant Surgery

More things I've learned, some more pleasant than others:

Lesson 1:

One of the best things about being a surgeon is that you get to make people listen to your favorite music when you operate, if you're so inclined.

Lesson 2:

One of the worst things about being on your surgery rotation is that you have to listen to your attendings' favorite music while they operate, if they're so inclined. Sometimes you like their music, and you jam out to Chumbawumba and Third Eye Blind and Hootie and the Blowfish behind your mask. Other times it's lots of Nickelback and Lifehouse and really bad Top 40 and you feel like your ears are bleeding.

On a related note, it's funny when middle-aged white surgeons have club music on their playlists.

Lesson 3:

LUNGS ARE HUGE. I'm talking, each lung is like twice the size of my face. On the real. They're all puffy and somehow remind me of two large-ish Teddy bears. I saw live lungs for the first time last night. Crazy thing.

Lesson 4:

Organ transplantation, when successful, is a wonderful thing, giving recipients a new lease on life. What one often doesn't think about is organ donation, which almost always happens when a patient dies. I came face to face with that part of the equation last night during an organ harvest. It was surprisingly disconcerting to see the patient wheeled into the OR, and then to see the patient's vital organs being removed and the patient's life blood being flushed out. All a part of the circle of life, to be sure, and organ donation is a way to make a senseless death worth something more to others. But all these things being true, it's still a difficult thing to stomach, at least at first.

Lesson 5:

I apparently have a tendency to experience dysphagia (ie, difficulty swallowing) and subsequent throwing-up on mornings after I've had very little sleep the previous night. I've had two such nights in my 5 weeks of the surgery rotation so far, and I've thrown up on both of the following mornings. This has happened to me in the past before, too. This can't be good, as I'm sure residency will put me in this very situation many, many times. Must learn to pace oneself in the morning instead of trying to nom after a long night.

Lesson 6:

If you don't watch sports, it might be smart to start doing so in order to interact with a large number of patients during semi-awkward situations. One of my teammates last month could always talk to patients about sports while changing their bandages in order to distract them from the pain. I usually stood mute, especially when the patient was a man and I was pretty sure we had nothing in common. The talking-about-sports route was much better.

Lesson 7:

When asking questions to attendings, be careful not to ask too many questions that reveal your lack of knowledge. Otherwise you might find yourself being told to research your own question and report back to the attending the next morning. Which is what happened to me today when I asked one too many questions about the steps of a kidney transplant. Drat!

Lesson 8:

Sometimes people are just kind of crabby and prone to snapping at you. That's pretty crummy.

Lesson 9:

You know how on Grey's Anatomy, whenever they're doing a transplant they anxiously wait for the organ to "pink up" while thoughtful music wells up in the background? Yeah, that happens in real life, too. I got a bit of a kick out of that.

Lesson 10:

You'd be amazed how quickly a pink bowel turns white when it's not getting blood flow anymore. Conversely, if you look away for a second after a kidney transplant has been attached to the recipient's blood supply, you'll miss the magic moment when it goes from being white to being a rich purplish-pink. Blood flow is cool.

Things that are bound to make me cry

Taking a leaf out of my new hero Mindy Kaling's book (quite literally), I've decided to list things that inevitably make me cry:

• Watching the movie Up for any 3-6 minute interval. The chubby little boy scout will talk about his absent father, or the adorable, sad old man will remember his deceased wife, or the extremely eager-to-please Dug will show just how much he just wants to be loved, and game over. Doesn't take long for the tears to spill.
• Listening to "Stop This Train" by John Mayer. It's a song about parents getting older and kids becoming adults and life's inexorable march. How can I not cry?
• Thinking about my sister's wedding too much. It makes me too happy/sad. On the real.
• Hearing 3-5 songs by Ingrid Michaelson within a short period of time. Eventually, one of the lines will tug at one of my many, pliable heartstrings, and I'll compare myself to the protagonist in the song ("I don't believe in anything but myself" and so on) and I'm crying while I'm driving. It's always very cathartic.
• Reading good writing.
• Any and every episode of Grey's Anatomy. I'm not even joking.
• Seeing my mom cry (just like Mindy Kaling, except I don't have an amusing anecdote about watching The Help with my mother to illustrate this. In fact, I have just the opposite. Within the first 10 minutes of our watching Up together, I was crying and my mom was looking at me funny wondering why I was such an emotional wreck. She's tough, which is why seeing her cry sets me off uncontrollably.)
• Homeless people. It's so very sad.
• Any time my parents or sister express emotion towards me. We're one of those freakish not-very-expressive families, so any time anything is expressed, my emotions go haywire.
• Belting out Sara Bareilles's Gravity. "Here I am, and I stand so tall, just the way I'm supposed to be" gets me every time.
• Foundations by Kate Nash, Slow Dancing in a Burning Room by John Mayer, and other similarly spot-on breakup songs. Guh.

How is it that Mindy Kaling's list of things that make her cry is so much funnier than mine? I suspect it's all in the execution...maybe....

Thanksgiving

I love that the one holiday that is truly American is Thanksgiving. What a lovely concept encapsulated in just one word: giving thanks.

Let me be honest about something: I don't love the holidays the way most people do. I'm in that somewhat pitiful minority of the population that dreads the holidays because they inevitably bring with them filial strife. There is nothing intrinsically festive about the Christmas season for my family, and trying to bring a holiday spirit into the house during that time sometimes feels a bit forced, even futile. Layers of issues emerge during this time, not least of them the difficulty of being an immigrant family. So I always tiptoe around the holidays, because I never know what they will bring. One day the family could get along wonderfully. The next we could frown at one another terribly.

Let me be honest about another thing: it's been a tough year. I've cried a lot, questioned a lot of things I've taken for granted all my life, and had really high ups and really deep downs.

And yet.

I still want to give thanks. So here goes:

I'm thankful for my friends, who have proven their incredible worth to such a degree that I cannot begin to express my gratitude. I'm thankful for the family that could only cause me so much heartache because they have given me so much love. I'm thankful for college and all that it has taught me. I'm thankful for the words that help me make sense of this world. I'm thankful for the music that has so often been my loyal companion. I'm thankful for critical thinking. I'm thankful for being a medical student, difficult as the road may get. I'm thankful that despite legions of unhappiness, I am still surrounded by joy that can't be kept down. I'm thankful. And I'm glad there's a holiday that reminds me to take a moment, or a day, or a week, to give thanks for all that is good in my life, because there is so much. What are you thankful for today?

Selection Bias

I've been playing my iTunes on shuffle for the past three days, and I've been continually impressed with just how good the playlist has been. Owl City and Ingrid Michaelson and Imogen Heap and Kate Nash and Hellogoodbye and some great Tamil songs thrown in, along with some of the new Maroon 5 album. It made me really happy that such great songs were coming up on shuffle.

...

And then I realized that I'm loving all the songs that are coming up because they're, well, my library. Selection bias works its magic: I chose all the songs that went into my iTunes library, so of course a random playlist of them would be filled with all my favorites. It ruins the magic a tiny bit, but it also makes me smile. How circular our lives can be.

Another example of selection bias: patients on peritoneal dialysis are more likely to survive than those on hemodialysis, even though peritoneal dialysis is less effective at renal clearance than hemodialysis. Why, you ask? Well, because of many factors, including better retention of renal function in those on peritoneal dialysis, the lack of biocompatibility issues for peritoneal dialysis [unlike the ones rampant in hemodialysis], more cardiovascular complications on hemodialysis, and better clearance of middle molecules [which may be toxic to dialysis patients in the long run] in peritoneal dialysis. But most importantly, patients on PD might have a selection bias phenomenon: those who choose to do the more independent and demanding form of dialysis are likely to be better-educated (and thus take better care of their renal health overall), less sick, and have better family support.

^I wrote that entire paragraph to review something I studied today. Exams start in 6 days, and it's time for lockdown. Not long till I see the light!

The Good, the Bad, the Ugly

The Best: I met Amy Tan tonight! I love her books, though I haven't touched one in ages, and I didn't even get to hear her read because I had to leave early, but meeting her was such an honor, and I got her to sign my yellowed paperback copy of The Joy Luck Club and take a picture with my sister and me. All in all a pretty great Monday night.

The Great:

1. I went to a reading last Tuesday evening by my wonderful former creative writing professor, Emily Fox Gordon (www.emilyfoxgordon.com). She is one of the most intelligent authors I've ever read--in my adult life, other than when reading, say Moby-Dick or Midnight's Children, never have I had to look up words so many times while reading a book. Emily's cadences are nearly always spot-on, and I am so proud to have been taught by her. She struggled with trying to write fiction for many many years before realizing that personal essay was the genre for her (and, I think, the genre for me--this is the class I took with her), but she had to write two memoirs and one novel (the last a triumph for her, because she never thought she could write fiction) before FINALLY getting to publish a collection of her personal essays entitled Book of Days. I bought this book at her reading and had her sign it, and she signed it "To Chaya, one of my very favorites," which made me feel really special. I'm hoping to have lunch or coffee with her some time in the near future. That reading came at the perfect time: between my first medical school exams. It reminded me that there's a whole other amazing and happy side to me and my life that isn't sciencesciencescience, and I had nearly forgotten about that aspect. So it was just. Great.

2. I've realized that I can count on my best friends to see through my facades and know exactly, exactly when I need them and to be there when I need them, and that is comforting in a way I cannot even express. I don't know what I'd do without the wonderful people I have in my life.

The Good:

1. I've made soup twice since moving into my apartment, and both times, the soup has come out great. Really, great. This is absolutely wonderful, partly because I love soup, but also because I've always, always wanted to be a wonderful recipe-less cook like my mother, and I'm finally starting to edge towards the possibility of that. I've eaten tons of sub-standard Indian food (prepared by myself) for the past few years as I've tried to find my cooking rhythm, and I'm finally starting to get that magical intuition that all Indian mothers seem to have. And my newfound cooking savvy seems to extend to pastas and soups as well! This is wonderful news.

2. I'm one block into medical school, and I've not only made it so far, but enjoyed it. I'm a little loath to begin studying again now that a new block has begun, but I'm hoping that my enthusiasm will grow slowly but surely.

3. The new Sara Bareilles album is filling me with great joy. How wonderful when an artist one loves proves her worth with a second album that is quite possibly better than the last.

The Bad:

1. It's 9:10 PM and I've only reviewed one of the four lectures I had today. And I wanted to go to bed early tonight as getting up early (after four days of vacation) was particularly difficult this morning.

2. Crazy as it sounds, medical school is the simplest, most manageable thing in my life right now. On the one hand, this makes medical school not so bad. On the other hand, it shows how much of a struggle many other things are being right now.

The Ugly:

1. I'm trying to write a piece for my medical school's literary magazine, and I'm running into problems from the outset. I haven't written anything worth anyone else's revisions in an incredibly long time, and I really want to make this piece great, because I know there's substance there. I just feel like the lolcat in that lolcatz picture, the one that's sprawled across a keyboard with the caption "Writer's block. I haz it."

2. I just want so badly to be substantive, real. I feel that I'm not really either.

Like a Duck to Water

Crazy as it may sound, that's the way I feel that I've taken to medical school. To be perfectly honest, I wondered for a long time whether medical school was the right path for me, even as I was interviewing and deciding where to go to school. Once I got here, though. I quickly [very quickly] learned that it was exactly where I wanted to be, where I was supposed to be. Perhaps it's just the excited flush of new experiences and new friends, or the joy of learning, or the even greater joy of finally starting on the path toward my chosen career, but medical school, though challenging no doubt, is proving to be much, much better than I had anticipated.

I've been taking classes for five weeks now (our orientation was six weeks ago), and it feels like forever. I barely have a memory of the summer that was before school began. We've covered in five weeks what a college course would have covered in at least 2/3 of a semester, encompassing two tests or more. And we still have one more week of classes before we finally have an exam over our first "block" of material.

When I was still in college [now that's a weird clause; I graduated from college almost a year ago. Imagine that!], I heard from a lot of friends in med school that trying to study all the information thrown at you is "like trying to take a sip of water from a fire hose." It's hard to actualize that kind of workload until you're experiencing it for yourself, but I'll have to say that the simile is quite apropos. I would like to add one of my own, though: each week, I feel as if I'm stuffing more and more compressible cotton balls (information) into a container with a snap-shut lid (my brain). As the weeks go by, the volume of the container gets more and more filled, and each week I'm having to push the cotton balls down, compress them as much as possible, then pull my pressing hand away as rapidly as possible as I rush to snap the lid shut on those overflowing cotton balls. It's a set of expectations the sort to which I've never had to rise before, and it's not easy.

But.

I'm finding that I actually like learning about feedback regulation in glycolysis, the muscle that makes my knee jerk in that famous reflex, the tendons visible beneath the skin of my hands. I like my classmates. Their intelligence, while a bit intimidating, is inspirational. Medical genetics and embryology, basically classes about every way a human being's development can go wrong, make me grateful that my genes contain no deleterious mutations, that the oddly-named Sonic Hedgehog signaling protein was present in all the right places and in all the right amounts so that my neural tube developed properly less than three weeks after my conception. There is so. much. to learn about our bodies, but how amazing to know how our muscles contract, that there are tiny little fibers that "walk" across each other every time our motor neurons fire and excite a skeletal muscle? Every time I get to thinking that this is just too much, that no one person can do this, I try to remind myself that so many others have gone before me, so it's possible. More importantly, one day I could be taking care of someone's motherfathersisterbrotherfriendhusbandwifechild, and I want to know everything I can so that I can take the best possible care of that person.

And it doesn't hurt that I still have time and energy to go out with friends on the weekends, talk to my roommate about our respective days daily, see friends from college, visit my family back home, and, yes, waste time every once in a while. More often than I probably should, in fact.

I've been watching Saved by the Bell in the mornings while I'm eating breakfast before school, and I can't help thinking that the theme for "The College Years" episodes is rather relevant to my current situation: "I'm standing at the edge of tomorrow...the future looks bright to me." I am so excited to be starting this next stage of my life, and I can't wait to be a real MD, with all the knowledge--and responsibility--that entails. Not to mention, it'll be nice to finally be getting paid.

"We're young enough to say, 'Oh, this is gonna be the good life.'" Good Life-OneRepublic

We Should Be Happy, That's What I Said from the Start

This morning I took a partially eaten box of Club crackers to lab. Starting two summers ago, one of my labmates, James, has consistently kept dark chocolate chips at his bench, and I spent many a quiet lab afternoon munching on those dark chocolate chips and chatting with him and the rest of my labmates. Unfortunately, I don't have much of a sweet tooth, and dark chocolate chips don't exactly fill me up. So forever, I've been telling myself that I need to bring savory snacks into the lab for everyone to snack on. Finally doing what I've told myself I would do for so long really felt good. Even better was that I finally got to snack on crackers in lab! And the best was that my labmates enjoyed [and are still enjoying] the crackers as well. I didn't realize until some time in my college career that I'm turning into my mother in the sense that I love it when people eat food I offer. So to see the cracker box slowly emptying brought me more joy than something like that normally should. Ha.

You know how people talk about the straw that broke the camel's back? I feel like eating three Club crackers on my way out to the parking lot after my day in lab was that for me, except in a positive way. It was the one incident in the day that made me realize that, once again, I'm happy today. There are just so many reasons to be joyous. The weather was beautiful today, and I ate lunch outside with two of my closest friends. I started a new mapping project in lab, and if things go well, I'll leave the lab [forever, which makes me sad] two weeks from now having mapped two mutations in about 10 weeks. Actually accomplishing things in my labwork makes me feel so good. I got to leave early today, and beat traffic coming home, but also managed to do real work in lab--yet another thing to be happy about. Last but not least, it didn't hurt that I wore a bright red shirt today that made me feel pretty. Course, I ruined the whole look (tunic and skinny jeans) by wearing chunky flip-flops, but said flip-flops are very comfortable, so I'm okay with that.

I very recently reconnected with two friends I haven't really kept in touch with throughout college (one via facebook message, the other via phone), an act definitely galvanized by the funeral I went to last weekend. That it was so simple to get back in touch with those two, especially one of them, that all it took was one facebook message, one phone call, made me feel...hopeful. It's great to make new friends, but the Girl Scouts weren't kidding when they said, "Make new friends, but keep the old, one is silver and the other's gold": there's nothing like the comfort of knowing that someone who knew and loved you back in your middle school dork days is still at least mildly interested in your life and your future.

And a lot of other things are going well in my life right now: my family, my future, my love life. There's just a lot going right, right now. It feels a little precarious, but hopefully life will stay this way. = )

"Hopelessly, the hope is we've got so much to feel good about." (Good Life-OneRepublic)

Note: Entry title is lifted from a line from "Happy" by Nevershoutnever, some of the lyrics of which confuse me, most of which make me, well, happy.

Spring Road Trip

Every year Rice gives its students a four-day weekend in early April, a break called spring recess. Freshman year, I went on a short trip to Austin during spring recess, to visit friends at UT. Starting sophomore year, I've gone on road trips with my incredible friends to various and sundry places in Texas: South Padre Island sophomore year (quite possibly the most epic spring recess ever), Corpus Christi/Port Aransas junior year (tons of fun, one highlight being that we saw real porpoises in the Gulf of Mexico), and San Antonio and thereabouts senior year.

It wasn't easy to get my parents' permission to go on that first trip in sophomore year. It was the first time I would be traveling such a long distance with friends, and it also was a trip involving boys, both facts which gave my parents pause. Thankfully, though, they eventually relented. It's funny to think back to the frustration I felt two years ago about my parents' worries, because now it's almost a matter of course that spring recess (and fall recess, which is the first semester parallel) means that I'm going on a road trip with my friends. I'm so happy I had these road trip experiences in college. It's these that cemented my friendships, and our trips gave birth to countless memories, quotable quotes, and new musical finds.

This year, as I mentioned, my friends and I (five of us total, which I think makes this our smallest trip to date) went to San Antonio. We'd already been there once before (for a fall recess) to go to Six Flags Fiesta Texas, so this time around we day tripped at Lake Travis and Enchanted Rock. I didn't join my friends at Lake Travis (met up with friends at UT instead), so I can't write about that, but I did enjoy Enchanted Rock.

Enchanted Rock is located outside of a little Texas town called Fredricksburg, known for its proud display of German roots and its antiquing. I think the hill itself is just a large rock formation made of pink Texas granite (which is quite lovely). The entire park is really well-maintained and pretty. We walked along really clearly marked trails to a pseudo-summit of sorts, and sat in the sun for a while to catch our breath. I felt a bit silly because there were a lot of older people walking up and down and around the hill fearlessly, but I was definitely treading with caution, especially on the steeper parts. Really there wasn't anything to be worried about, but it was just something I wasn't used to. So of the four of my friends, one started feeling a little sick when we were sitting at the summit, so she and I laid down in the shadow cast by a big beautiful boulder while the guys climbed further up and explored for a while. It was a really gorgeous day as far as the weather was concerned, so laying in the shade was absolutely glorious. We also got to take in an amazing view of the sky. There's nothing quite like a Texas sky.

After the five of us met up again, we all went back down the hill and waded in the small, clear creek at the start of the trail. The water was so clear you could see the pebbles below, and we saw quite a few tadpoles and some sort of tiny crustacean in the water. It was really lovely. We stopped in Fredricksburg for ice cream on the way back to San Antonio, which was a great way to end a really pleasant afternoon. Below are a few pictures from the day:

The beautiful sight from the beginning of the trail

The group, excluding me. It was a sunny day!

The guys on the climb down

The girls = )

Lovely deciduous trees--I missed these so much while I was in India!

Me and the best friend. We looked disgustingly like a couple with our unwittingly matching outfits.

Feet picture in the creek! The pebbles blend into our brown skin.

Okay this is blurry, but Texas wildflowers [this photo was taken on our drive back to Houston] are gorgeous.

Diglossia

Disclaimer: I totally am not a linguist and don't really know anything about diglossia (or the Tamil language) on a scholarly level. I'm just venting a little here.

I wish I could write an exciting entry about all of the cool things I've been doing here in Chennai, but I've honestly not done that much cool stuff. More than anything, I'm sort of wrapping myself into the fabric of my extended family's shared life here. I eat lunch with my grandma, tiffin with Akhil, and dinner with the rest of the family. I'm reading quite ravenously (books by Chetan Bhagat, author of Five Point Someone, upon which 3 Idiots was based, for now; I'll write an entry about his novels once I finish the last one I have by him), surfing the internet, and learning a sloka (prayer) in Tamil from my grandma. Which brings me, actually to the title of this entry: diglossia.

Diglossia is defined as "a situation where a given language community uses two languages or dialects," "the use of two varieties of a language by members of a society for distinct functions or by distinct groups or classes of people," and "the existence of two official languages in a society." And it's one of the characteristics of Tamil, my mother tongue (a phrase I believe only South Asian people seem to use...). What diglossia does to my world is mess it up. While Indian Americans whose mother tongue is Hindi can [with some effort] understand Hindi song lyrics, and Hindi poetry, can read a Hindi newspaper or watch a Hindi newscast and understand what he or she is reading or hearing, I can't do the same with Tamil.

Of course, I'm simplifying this a little: you'd have to be pretty proficient at Hindi to really understand a newscast or newspaper or poetry in the language, and I can definitely pick up words here and there in Tamil film songs if I try hard enough. But really: because I've never studied Tamil, only learned it through speaking to my family, I'm largely unaware of the true forms of most of the words I speak in this language. For example: if I were to say "it's raining" in Tamil, I would say "mazhai peyyarthu." But if I were to write it (or if the same phrase were to appear in a song, say), it would actually be "mazhai peygirathu." [And don't even get me started on transliterating Tamil; something as lovely as "moonlight caught in a bowl" looks a little ridiculous when you have to spell it out as "vennillaa velicham kinnaththil vizhinthu"] In short, the spoken form of my native language is kind of like AIM talk: abbreviations and shortenings galore. This would all be fine and dandy, if only I had been aware of this some time before I was around twenty years old. But I wasn't. So I went through a fair chunk of my life bemoaning the fact that I just didn't get Tamil. I could understand Hindi film song lyrics, for crying out loud, but lyrics in my own language, the first one I ever spoke, went over my head. What's wrong with that picture, right?

Thankfully, finding out about diglossia served to relieve me of my slight inferiority complex/identity crisis. It also, though, makes me feel a little cheated. Wouldn't life be so much easier if I were a native Hindi speaker and didn't have to work so darn hard to decipher my own language? I feel a bit like I'm being cheated of some sort of linguistic birthright. I mean, Tamil has a proud literary tradition: It not only predates Sanskrit, but has outlived it as a spoken language. But I find myself on the outside of much of its beauty, simply because I never formally learned it. I was hoping to learn Tamil in earnest (from my grandmother, a retired schoolteacher; she taught music in school, but she definitely knows Tamil well enough to teach it) during my time here, but I kind of lost interest somehow or other. Maybe I should do what I can in my last seven days. When all you're doing is reading novels and playing on your iPod Touch and bumming around, I'm sure you could squeeze lots of learning into the time that would have been whiled away otherwise.

To that end, I'm going to go chill with my grandma now.

Coming Attractions

I really want to blog about my time here in detail, and do it right with photos and everything, which means I probably won't get to do so until I get home (which is approximately five weeks [OMG five more weeks] from now). So that I don't forget the things I wanted to write about, and so that I actually write about this trip instead of just posting pictures on Facebook, here's a list of topics I want to cover in future blogs:

1. Mahaballipuram (really amazing historical city on the coast of the Bay of Bengal in Tamil Nadu)
2. A Primer on South Indian Temples (because I've visited so many while here, and have been taking pictures as well)
3. What Once Was and What Might Have Been (my parents' history here and musings upon the life I might have had had my father not been recruited by an American company--and thank goodness he was)
4. The Ugly Truth (about the unpleasantnesses of India as I experience it, encompassing things as specific as my family here and general as the widespread lack of soap in public restrooms, a state of affairs that makes me want to use this smiley: -__-. What's the point of washing your hands without soap?!)
5. Narayana Tirtha Aarathanai (this is the weekend music festival, held in the village [and I mean village] where my mother grew up, that I attended this past weekend. It's one of the main reasons I left for India as early as I did and am staying for as long as I am.)
6. The beauty of the Indian countryside

Those are the only posts I've thought of so far, but I'm sure I'll come up with more as time goes on, and that miscellaneous items will begin to coalesce as my trip continues. I've been in Thanjavur, the town where I was born, for 8 days now, and I'm leaving with my family for Bangalore via train tomorrow night. From Bangalore, I'm heading back to Chennai on March 2, and the night of March 17 will see me on a plane to Singapore!

And There'll Be Sun Sun Sun...

I feel almost guilty [almost, but not quite] that I'm enjoying temperate, sunny weather in Chennai, India while my friends back home shiver in 40-degree weather. Then I remember that I'm covered in mosquito bites (and getting more by the minute) and I don't feel so guilty anymore. This, my friends, has been the [happy] refrain (happy refrain, that's from some song I think...anyone know which? "And we will sing this happy refrain..." something like that) of nearly all the postcards I've written so far--and I've only written ten out of the 28 or so I'm to write from India. Funny story: the postcards, which feature scenes only from South India (in fact, I think, only from Tamil Nadu--which makes me happy because yay South India!) cost 6 rupees each. Postage for each one to America costs 15 rupees each. To be expected, but it's still pretty funny.

Other news:

1. My cousin who picked me up at the airport is a pretty darn good driver, which is saying something because driving in India is insane.
2. I made enchiladas for my two cousins here in Chennai for tiffin yesterday. (I love the word tiffin. Tiffin tiffin tiffin.) They rather enjoyed them, but now I have lots of refried beans and tortillas and enchilada sauce left in the refrigerator. I'll have to get my aunt and uncle to eat an enchilada or two later today.
3. Yesterday I showed my cousins (Abhi and Akhil, so I can stop writing "my cousins" all the time) the video for "Down" by Jay Sean on my iPod Touch (yay iPod which has proven so useful on this journey so far!). It was rather an interesting moment, just because there I was, Indian by birth but thoroughly American, showing my Indian-Indian cousins an r&b song by a British-Indian guy. They didn't really say whether they liked the song.
4. I bought myself Indian shampoo on the first day I got here. I'm really fascinated by the concept of beauty products and cosmetics made solely for Indian women. Foundation that's actually brown? Yes, please! (Okay fine, you can get brown foundation in the States, too, but it's different here. It just is. Plus, cosmetics are a bit cheaper here.
5. I won't be leaving India for another five weeks, but when I do, I'm going to go crazy buying Indian packaged food. We've been to the grocery store twice already to buy enchilada supplies, and I've begun to scope out all the types of noodles and sauce mixes and soups I can buy to fill up my soon-to-be-emptied suitcases. Yay empty suitcases! Speaking of which, when I was unpacking the things my parents had bought for our extended family here in Chennai, I found that it brought me great joy to begin clearing out my suitcases. It generally bring me joy to throw things out or get rid of things: papers, old ticket stubs, and so on. This is not really a very good thing, I'm afraid, because it's nice to hold onto objects that carry sentimental value. But I've never been very good at that.
6. There's a store near my uncle's flat that sells fresh chips. Kind of like a donut or bagel shop, except with chips. There are chips made of all sorts of vegetables and tubers: plantains and potatoes and lots of other Indian vegetables that I don't know the English names for (or the Tamil names, come to think of it...). I need to hit that place up soon because chips in India (even regular potato chips) are FTW.
7. I'm planning to get my nose pierced this Saturday. I'm pretty nervous about it, not so much for the impending pain, but because I really don't know how I'll look with my nose pierced. Truth: it could turn out really terribly. Also truth: I don't really care that much. I've wanted to have my nose pierced ever since I was a little girl. My mother has her nose pierced, like my grandmothers and most of my aunts. It's just something Indian women do. So hopefully the next time I blog I'll be able to tell you what it's like to get one's nose pierced in India. Let's cross our fingers for a no-harrowing experience!

All in all: I haven't had coconut water or roasted corn or mangoes or palm fruit (my mom says it's probably out of season, which breaks my heart a little) yet, nor have I gone to any temples, but I'm having rather a good time here so far. It's nice to be here A) in February, when the weather doesn't have me sweating constantly; and B) alone. I'm not being dragged around by the whims of my parents (my dad is usually fun when we're in India, but my mom goes insane, talking incessantly about how there's not enough time to do all the things she needs to do). Being here alone makes me feel grown-up, in a good way, and truly participatory in my experience here. I get to suggest what I'd like to do or where I'd like to go. Accordingly, Abhi and Akhil are supposed to take me to a coffee shop today, which should be a trip.

Being here is nice. I just hate that I'm missing such a big chunk of my life back home (seven weeks is a long time!) while I'm away.

Note: Entry title comes from "5 Years Time" by Noah and the Whale, which is a fantastic and fun song.