June 30, 7:21 p.m. EST

	I am flying. (smiling face) And clouds are just starting to whip over the wings.
	Selin said that if I had wings.. well, I asked her if I would have blonde wings, or sparrow wings, or green... like a parakeet's. Selin said they would be sparrow wings, but cleaner, as I would not take dust baths, and sort of ratty, as I would always be jumping around and falling down and getting up and dancing...)
	I am looking out the window a lot. Earlier I could see subdivisions and forests and the Potomac, but now all I see is haze and the backs of little clouds. As we were rising I kept looking to the back and smiling at the stewardesses, and they smiled back as if I'd made them happy. They are prim and very English – and parts of the magazine in the seatback I have trouble understanding because of the English slang. I'm excited because we're going to Heathrow Airport because I've read about it so many times. One of the stewardesses has an Irish accent though. (smiling face)
	The people next to me are reading jokes out loud and Selin's reading a book about spacetime and black holes. 
	Funny things written on shirts in the airport: 
	-Geology in Destiny 2001
	-Innocent Bystander
	-Remove Before Flight

June 30, 10:25 p.m. EST

	We flew over a lightning storm. It lit up the clouds from the inside. There was turbulence after that but it wasn't bad. 
	I just finished watching The Pianist. I'm glad Carissa narrated a lot of it to me because for some reason the subtitles for the German parts were missing or cut off.

July 1, 2:40 a.m. EST, 7:40 a.m. London time

	We are in Heathrow and Synthia and Selin and I just found out we're not staying here for a few days, but are pressing on to India.
	I expect more of that sort of stuff.
	I can sleep anywhere ... EXCEPT ON PLANES! (angry face)

July 1, 3:04 p.m. London time

	We almost didn't get on this flight to Colombo, Sri Lanka, because we did not know we had to check in before boarding. We're still not entirely sure if our bags will be loaded onto this flight or the next.
	The stewardesses are wearing pretty green half-saris.
	We spent 7 hours in the airport. JoeMerritt said he was surprised I could survive walking through a place as commercial as an airport. 
	Synthia was trying to tell us she was excited to be in London and we told her no, she's not in London, she's in an international airport – sortof an island within London. She said "I'm not on an island!" and when we pointed out that England is an island, she was surprised.
	We just got a hot towel! Wet and smelling like roses! Nice for my face! (smiling face with messy bangs labeled "needs a shower")
	The plane is so old that the seats have ash trays.
	Ooh, taking off! ... no, just taxiing... very slowly.
	It was still a little strange, the airport, because we didn't know about tipping rules in Britain and all the water was mineral water and "water in a cup" doesn't mean "free water" it means "bottle of water with a cup next to it."
	(drawing of a waitress asking in an English accent, "And would you like sparkling water or still water?")

July 1, 9:45 p.m. EST
July 2, 7:15 a.m. India time

	In the plane, waiting to go from Sri Lanka to India. 
	Things I forgot to write: 
		While in the airport, waiting to see if we could get on the plane to Sri Lanka, the airport official was calling to see if there was room for us and he said, "5 people... all one family... or one group, anyway." (smiling face) We all laughed, and Selin called me the white sheep of the family.
		While we were waiting for the plane to take off from Heathrow, I found out there was Galactica on the plane – the arcade came that was my favorite whenever we played after dinner at Jerry's near my house. But that version, I realized wsa more fun... because spaceship shooting games are more fun if the other spaceships actually shoot back. (smiling face)
		And then the pilot made an announcement, saying: "I'm sorry we are leaving so late... We were delayed for various reasons... but you probably aren't interested in what they are." 
	My watch is still set to EST... and as the days shift I look to see what everyone is up to at the time.
	(picture of the plane, all dark heads and then mine blonde)
	Oh, how strange – we're in Sri Lanka and the plane is taxiing and it's some strange instrumental version of "Leaving on a Jet Plane" that's playing.
	Tropical soil is rust colored.
	When Neola and Anusha (some cousins) were last at this airport, they had to run past/through this fence because a bomb was about to go off and their mother got stuck on the fence and their father had to go back after her and the girls (then they were younger than Sarmite is now) saw a man get shot...
	Last night I looked past a sleeping Selin to see dim little lights strung along coves of the Black Sea, dimly marking the edge of the land. But I slept through the best part of Iran, when Selin said she saw bright light floating on the black plane below and more way above (because she was close enough to the window to see the stars) and in between was the silhouette of the mountains.
	On the way to London we flew with Virgin Atlantic and there were nifty free things and you could have as many blankets as you wanted... the planes were always cold... but on Sri Lanka Air I asked for another blanket and the stewardess said only one comes with each seat but she would see what she could do... she came back and said she asked whoever was in charge of such things to turn up the heat. I said, no no, that's okay, but she said, no no, it is too cold, and she put her hand to my hand (or was it too my cheek?) and it was chilly, and she smiled and said, "See?" And that was reassuring. (smiling face)
	Aah, they just gave us dried mangoes!!

July 2, 5:20 p.m. India time

	IN INDIA!
	The airport was the most relaxed, un-American, un-everything-I-know airport I'd ever been to. Finding the relatives was easy and jumbled and then there was a four-hour car ride to Selin's mom's house. We were waving in and out among autos and cars so unlike American cars and lots of motorcycles (women in saris on mopeds make me smile!) and occasional carts drawn by oxen and an elephant. The bumpers of trucks and buses say "sound horn" and, honking, we zoomed in and out of lames. The other car we were with ran a red light, as per usual, but a policeman stopped them to get a bribe.
	Selin got carsick and then I was her pillow for a lot of the ride.
	There are palm trees everywhere. We stopped by a roadside stand and I got a coconut with a straw in it and a tiny banana that was the best I've ever eaten. (picture of Daina staring in wonderment at a banana about 6 inches long) The mountains here seem strangely shaped to me. We passed a wind farm. Apparently it's always windy here.
	Now we're in a town called Palayankottei. Only a few of Selin's relatives speak English. They are amused by my attempts at Tamil. After I refused to eat with a spoon but ate with my hands like the rest, they said Selin had done a good job of teaching me to be Indian. (smiling face)
	A little while ago I finally took a much-needed shower. From the bathroom window I saw a neighbor's yard, where a man was pumping water, and a roof on which a girl was reading out loud from a book.
	And now we and a bunch of guy cousins are watching The Matrix. yay. (smiling face)
	Selin's cousin has two kids who, if they observe standard formalities, will call me Daina-aunty! I have nieces!! (face smiling very much)

July 3, 9:54 pm. India time

	My favorite activities so far are taking walks and looking out of the window. This morning I was just taking pictures of the view from across the roofs and caught sight of a woman across the street, on her roof. She smiled and pulled back a sheet-curtain and her daughter waved at me, too. This evening I was looking out the front grille again – it runs along the hallway on the second floor – and they were outside their house, on the street, tugging back and forth like it was a game. They saw me watching and then they both called the children out of the house across the street from us, and I waved to all. For a while, every time I walked by they yelled "Hey!" until I waved. 
The streets are narrow with open sewers running alongside. This. This morning Synthia woke up early enough to watch all the women wet the street in front of their homes and trace designs on their doorsteps in white chalk. I woke early enough to watch a woman with a spade-thing cleaning the sludge in the sewers and to watch people selling greens from bicycles go by. Selin slept a long time.
	Later we went to one house (Stephen and Esther's house) to look at pictures and talk to Selin's cousin Stephen, who's out of school due to a teacher strike, and then to Chinna-pathi's house. That house was so tiny, three rooms the size of large closets, but it was on the edge of dried-up rice paddies and there was a nice wind there. We ate fried peanuts. Chinna-pathi, Selin's grandmother's sister, said there were a lot of people from Singapore here, including a few girls who look just like me, just like me. We think she can't tell light-skinned people apart. She wondered out loud why white people don't have black hair, because they'd look so much better, and said she didn't like us wearing Western clothes. Everyone will see me in a sari soon. (smiling face)
	Lunch was at Ponmani-attha's (Stephen and Ester's) house. It was served on banana leaves. I had trouble eating the payasam (tapioca balls and rice noodle-things in sweet sauce) with my hands.
	Afternoon was playing and sleeping instead of going to the Singapore-people's general Christian meeting. I came downstairs in a long skirt and the athas (aunts) were happy to see it instead of baggy pants.
	This morning I saw a pali (gecko). This evening Synthia, her little cousin Franklin and I took a walk through lit streets, but we couldn't go many places because of dogs. 
	Ceiling fans are wonderful.

July 4, 9:45 a.m. India time

	Selin and I are lying around reading, after a short Tamil lesson. Selin's dad asked me if I was bored and I wonder if he believed me when I said no.
	The electrical current's back. It cuts out every once in a while. Though this house has a reserve or something, on the reserve the light and fan run only at half strength.
	There is a banana Synthia didn't want on the bed next to me. I'll at it sometime – they're wonderful. I wonder if this will ruin American bananas for me, like Cancun ruined coconuts. I'm waiting for the red ones. (smiling face)
	This morning, Selin's dad showed me and Synthia around, explaining the chalk-markings the women make (Hindu prayers for the money god or goddess) and other things. Dailits (untouchables) are the ones that clean the sewers. Many people don't have bathrooms inside and just use the sewers. We went to a market and Synthia pointed out the huuge jackfruits, the spiky fruits larger than watermelon's I'd asked about earlier. A man told the woman selling them that I was looking at her fruits and she got excited and told me "Come! Come!" The streets smelled like incense in places, from the morning puja (Hindu prayer). 
	Synthia said a little boy pointed at me. Her father said, "At you, too! No one wears clothes like that here." She sounded triumphant and said, "No, at Daina – they don't think I'm so strange anymore." I attract the glances now..
	I felt like such a lame tourist, listening to Selin's dad's tour and taking pictures. But I wanted the pictures. I felt better taking them when people weren't looking, but taking them of people's backs sometimes felt like stealing.
	During breakfast, Selin asked me how I through jackfruits grow and was disappointed that I'd already heard they grow on trees. She said they look like tree-tumors. (smiling face)
	So today's been awesome so far. I am more used to it but am still drinking in sights that must be common to people here – women pumping water and girls in uniforms and children going to school in autos and goat-kids nursing, cats on palm-leaf roofs, everything. Plus I woke up early (6:15) and saw the morning things, the prayer drawing and the man next door wandering around his yard splashing himself. This time, though, he wasn't all soapy, and his wife and daughter weren't cleaning up after him. (smiling face)
	Last night, Rajkumar showed us his yearbook and told us funny stories about the people in it – like the guy that made up some long word to use instead of "um."
	Cake is an acceptable breakfast food.

Sabbath, July 5, 7:32 a.m. India time

	I've been up a long time – more or less out of bed since 5 and dozing since about midnight. I don't feel much of a need to sleep here. While I was half-asleep, I kept thinking about what people were doing right then at home.
	While I was lying there, Synthia would speak in her sleep and once she grabbed my face. She, Selin, their mom and I have been sharing two beds pushed together, and last night we had crowed together, so that I was sandwiched.
	While I was up this morning, I stood at the second-floor grating for more than an hour, watching the sky get light and women clean the streets and draw their prayers... even now I'm sitting near the front step with Synthia, watching people go by. She told me that the water-pots women carry so gracefully against their hips are actually hard to carry, which doesn't surprise me.
	I watched a woman draw her prayer and though she had outlined it in some dots before, I was sure it would turn out in a haphazard maze of squiggles... but it ended up being a symmetrical loopy pattern, like a Celtic knot. 
	I spent time watching a cat on a roof and lizards on the wall, and I shone my flashlight through the grating onto them, which made lizards look translucent. I had brought the flashlight with the idea of reading the Imitation of Christ, but instead I thought about a lot of things.
	Yesterday we went down to Chinna-pathi's twice, and the second time we went outside so Selin could take pictures and a whole crowd of children gathered, equally fascinated by me and by the camera, which was a digital one that displayed the pictures on the back. Chinna-pathi called even more people over and soon there were women with their children and old ladies. Selin would take pictures of the kids and then would wait a long time while they all took a look at the photo. They stared at me too... I really wished, then, that I could speak in Tamil... the women asked about developing photos and about me... I felt, a little, like an exhibit in a zoo, but one that finds the spectators to be interesting themselves. I could have gone inside Chinna-pathi's house (though later when we did, children followed us and peered in the windows), but I liked smiling at the kids and looking at everyone. The women wondered at how little jewelry we wore, and Selin told them how in the U.S. people just get married without concern for dowry. They said they had only seen white people in the movies and asked why those people could speak Tamil (cause those movies are dubbed). And they laughed and talked about how if they suddenly showed up on a street in the U.S., how they would gather a crowd, too. And at first I thought, no, but then I pictured a dark, dark woman in a long sari with nose rings and a bindi on her forehead, carrying a naked child on her hip, showing up in the middle of some all-white Midwestern town... if people didn't crowd around, they'd probably still stare.
	The boldest of the children grabbed my hand, so I shook it and said "Vanakum" (greetings). Then they all wanted to shake my hand. One of the older boys made the Indian greeting motion, putting the hand together, and when I did that, they almost screamed with laughter.
	They followed us into the house and Chinna-pathi told a new girl coming in, "She's just like you... only white."
	Except, standing outside this morning looking at the street, I thought how I'm not the same, though. I thought about crowed markets and women rising early to begin their cleaning, the narrow streets and their stray animals, the teacher strikes and the mass arrests that follow, the way the mornings and evenings smell of incense, the way a 20-minute drive is a long way away... and I wondered what sorts of souls will be built up among such things... I am so aware, here, of how great an outsider I am. I am learning every day more of how the people here live, but to what purpose am I learning, if I will go home to something completely different?
	I just pray that my time here is well spent. I think it will be... at least in some way. Here, between the visits and the looking-around, I read and write and sit still to think. That is good, I think.
	I want to take into myself something that is worth something.
	Yesterday, we went to the graveyard in Nazareth, sort of the city from which Selin's family has come. We brought a huge woven bundle with huge flower-garlands in it, and we lay them on the grave of Selin's uncle that died a few months ago... and we put there candles, too, and incense. People cried... The men here cry as I have not seen men cry in the U.S. They do not try to hide it at all, and no one moved to comfort anyone else. Selin's father made sure that Selin and Synthia took pictures. While we were there, the sky was leaden-grey.
Selin told me later that they did comfort each other, but after the wreath-laying, later by the cars... and only in words, not in gestures.
	One of Selin's relatives made lemonade... the lemons smelled so good. We also had biscuits (Britannica, thought they tasted like Trumilk, which we've had at Chinna-pathi's) and different kinds of bananas. In Nazareth, pigs roamed the streets.
	As many as three people ride one bicycle – one on the bars in front, one on the seat, one on the bike rack in back. I saw a man weaving through heavy traffic with a woman on the back, and over the woman's shoulder slept a little child.
	Tiny children ride on huge bicycles. Selin's cousins Rajkumar and Manoj ride motorcycles -- Rajkumar offered Synthia a ride but she was afraid to accept.
	The first time we went to Chinna-pathi's, I felt so lame because when smoke blew out of the kitchen, my eyes watered along time, as if I was crying, and Chinna-pathi's always so concerned about me.
	"Close the kitchen door!"
	"It doesn't close more than halfway."
	"Why do you have a door then?"
	And said with almost a wink, "For security."
	I like watching the house next to Chinna-pathi's... there are women doing interesting things, and animals, and yesterday as a woman splashed water around the doorstep, the sun caught it so it shone all around her.
	As I splashed water yesterday over my feet from a tin cup to get the dirt off, I felt very Indian.
	Jackfruits have sweet orange flesh around lots of pretty pits that looked like polished pebbles with the pattern of some strange wood... but they smell sour and turn white as they dry.

July 6, 2:26 p.m.
	The cousins were just making fun of my bandana. "In America," they said, "It's fashion, but here train conductors use it to keep dust off their hair." No matter. I wear it for practical reasons, too – if I don't, my scalp will get sunburn.
	The aunts all like me because I eat well. They keep putting new and tasty thing before me, fruits and hot milk with sugar (it tastes different here, not pasteurized or homogenized... I wanted some curds at lunch but I was full.) They still laugh when I say a Tamil word, especially if it's a new one. 
	The littlest cousin, Franklin, is playing a sad video game. It opens with the main character's wife being shot and his child kidnapped, and hoe goes on a car-chase, armed to avenge them and get his child back. Killing pedestrians and dying yourself is easy in the game, and the music is sad. He plays all the time. I suppose it's exciting.
	I hardly sleep here. Maybe four hours a night. Synthia sleeps as little or less. So strange. I get sleepy only when it's hot or I'm full of heavy food. Yesterday I napped in someone else's house, on the bed next to the kitchen.
	The cousins just read the beginning of this entry and ordered me to write some more. (smiling face) They all comment on how much I write. Too much maybe. 
	Now they are all trying on Synthia's nail polish. It is in style, apparently, to paint just one of your thumbnails. Even they guys are trying it on and kidding around, swiping each other's arms with nail polish.
We've been kidding around all day. Earlier, as we stood on the side of the road while waiting for the drive r to change the tire (we'd been on our way to a temple) the entry breaks off here

July 1, 7:48 a.m.
	Last night was the first time in weeks I'd really dreamed. I woke, thinking about how I hadn't meant to fall asleep right after dinner but I had anyway... I checked my watch, thinking it was about midnight, but it was almost 5 a.m.
	Synthia and I got up around 6. We're in the village now – Palanniappapuram. Already (it's later the same morning) I've walked to the end of the village in every direction. No more than a hundred houses, surely. 
	Yesterday, Synthia and I were walking around the village and a dozen or two little children started following us. "It's like a parade," I said, and Synthia answered, "Yeah, and you're the balloon." Selin's father laughed at us. I felt like the pied piper, and laughed when I realized I could steal all the children of the village.
	I was hanging out with Synthia because Selin was sleeping. We went over to her cousin's... they have cows, goats, and chickens. They wanted us to take pictures of them – oh yes, their daughters are my nieces. The youngest was so tiny – perhaps less than a month old – that the mother said we had to wait a few months to take a picture of her. I have lots of pictures of the other one, Devia. The mother of the girls is my age. She got married at 15 or 16. With them was also a woman, a little older than me perhaps, who cannot speak. 
Selin said they think it bad luck to photograph pregnant women or children less than 10 months. She said the belief is the flash will hurt their eyes, but the belief probably comes from the great chance of the baby dying in 10 months. Babies aren't usually named for a year after they're born, Selin said.
	Synthia often goes next door to visit her friends. They stopped going to school in sixth grade and make bidi – Indian cigarettes – instead. Selin says they will likely get cancer in their fingers.
	This morning Selin and I went next door to the Adventist church/school/doctor... the pastor spoke English! The only other person I've met here who knows much English is Selin's visiting uncle. I'll have to pick up my Tamil lessons. (smiling face)
	When we walk in the streets, random people stop to ask our names or talk to us. Sometimes they ask, in English, "How are you?"
	Selin, her cousin's husband and I just went to the store. A man there was putting four goats into a basket on the back of his moped!
	I was sad to leave the cousins at Palayankottei, even if we're just leaving for a bit. We get along so well. The day we left I spoke with Esther for an hour about all kinds of things, and when we were at the roadside, as I was writing before, she and Jemi grabbed my cheeks and pulled them. I can hear Esther in my head, saying "So soooft!" They pulled my cheeks all day long on the pretense of feeling how soft they are. They do stretch much further than anyone else's.
	So yesterday we went to a Hindu temple. There were lots of good statues but I was not as interested as the others. There were bats flapping around there, and kittens.
	While we were there, the driver heard that we'd gone to a fair and made fun of us. "I bet all you did was eat apalam and buy stupid things," he said. And he was right. (smiling face) Selin got a laser pointer, her cousin Jemi got a cage with a fake bird that sings when someone moves the cage; everyone got the huge sheets of crispy rice stuff, apalam (except me, cause I don't like it much; I ate a bit of Selin's.) Oh, and we saw the snake lady: head of a woman, tail of a snake. Selin said she felt like she was back in the 20s. I attracted about as much attention as the snake lady. One girl saw me and opened her eyes, afraid as if she'd seen a ghost. So I said something about people being willing to pay to see me and Selin laughed and said we'd make a fortune and told it to everyone else, and they laughed, but for some reason I couldn’t bring myself to do anything more than blush and force a smile.

June 8, 5:00 p.m.

	We just got back from Nazareth, visiting Neola and Anusha at their grandfather's. There is an Adventists boarding school across the street. The feel about the place is nice – broad dusty walkways lined with green bushes. A nice mix of sun and shade.
	Here people put birds in cages so small, it is sad. Selin's cousin keeps doves (pigeons) for pets. They roost in the eaves of their shed. Yesterday we held the two young ones – they have not yet grown the feathers they need to fly.
	I am sitting on the front step of Selin's grandparents' house, watching Synthia play frisbee with her relatives. Maybe I will play soon. Children on their way from school stop to stare at me.
	We went shopping in Nazareth. I wanted shoes but they didn't have many in my size.
	On the drive back I saw a bird with blue-green wings land on the road. A little while afterward, we passed the only green fields I've seen – everything else is dried out and dusty.
	Selin drove an auto! It jerked when she was driving. We watched goats fight in the road. Baby goats are cute, the older ones just funny. Their eyes are set so strangely far apart, and they kneel awkwardly.
	I love the roof. Soon it will be quite comfortable and I'll go up there to look at the sunset colors.

July 9, 9:02 p.m.

	 There's a full house of relatives here at the moment – Selin, Synthia and I lie on beds in a luxuriously air-conditioned room while others have beds outside or on pallets on the cement floor. Well, last night my bed was about a foot too short for me, but today I am planning to switch beds with someone shorter. Today we all woke up at 5 a.m. or so and left at 6 – collecting more and more people as we went, a van with over 20 people by the end, including infants without diapers (hee) – and we just got home. So much driving. Because we went sightseeing: first, to the dam in Manimutharu, where not only was there a windy, windy overlook that showed tiny people far below in boats that looked like bottle caps and fields that looked like accidents, surprising shapeless green in hollows that in rainier seasons would be inundated... not only was there all this and a fringe of those strange sharp mountains, but there was green all fed by water, rice fields and water buffalo and lots of farms... I think I missed green things without realizing it, because looking onto those fields was like a draught of sweet cold water.
	There was a funny playground there, mostly broken down and with a man napping in it, and all the kids and I went down this tall cement slide that ended sharply on the ground, so you either fell awkwardly onto your feet, like I did, or slipped down on your bum like the kids.
	Then we had the nicest lunch in a clearing by the side of the road – there were actually trees there, and we sat on woven palm mats we found, and ate our picnic off banana leaves, and everyone was cheerful – I never use the word "holiday" to mean day out, but that is the word that came into my head at the time. A real holiday. Dogs and crows and cows came for our scraps, and I climbed a low tree branch, and Selin called me a monkey. Then we went to the falls in Kutralam.
	Being waterfalls, they were in the mountains. From the village, the mountains are just strangely misty crags on the horizons, and I was happy to drive up into them. And there were real monkeys there, everywhere, all over the parking lot even. I watched them eat food they'd stolen right out of people's hands, and we had to be careful not to leave our clothes unattended. They all look like big-eared old men, especially the bald babies that the grown-ups carry on their stomachs.
	So there are several famous waterfalls in the area, and we went to two. The first was best – though they expected tourists, and there we were, there were far fewer people, and vendors, and beggars, etc. So we all took a shower in the waterfall. I even brought shampoo and soap. The water was cold, but it was so hot today it felt good.
	Then, one of the many aunts told me "Come!" and pulled me over to where the crowd was thickest and the water was strongest on the women's side. She shoved me under so that I couldn't see for the water on my face, and it felt.. I don't know, like standing under a waterfall. (smiling face) After a minute I yelled in Tamil "Good!" and "Enough!" but she said "no no" and pushed me further into the stream. Then she started rubbing my hair, like mothers wash their babies' hair, and rubbing my shirt against my back, and women who were nearby helped her so that all kinds of hands scrubbed me and washed my clothes while they were still on me and I heard Selin and Synthia laughing at me from where they washed. Plus, I was taller than anyone, so they said I was extra funny, and like a duck. Later, when I was leaving the waterfall a second time, the girls next to me, with waterfall rolling through their hair, asked me what was my country.
	Later, at the biggest falls, two policewomen passing us where we waited for Selin's mom wanted to know why I, personally, hadn't been up close, and wouldn't I like to go? Because there were hundreds there, but they cared about me. And always among Selin's relatives everyone cares so much for me, asking if I want to call home or want an omelet since I didn't eat much meat.  (I've eaten fish once; the omelets are excellent, especially when they make them with tiny sweet purple onions; the fish was really good, fried, but I try not to eat meat, though I gladly drink milk and such – the milk here is different and has so much cream in it!) And just now, an old woman stepped on my foot and was so sorry. I complimented Selin's grandmother on the good food and she didn't understand right away because she doesn't expect compliments. There is a word for thank you but I don't hear anyone use it but me... it is as if this is the way it should be, us being served, and letting yourself be served is polite, here, but strange to me.
	After the waterfalls we strolled through some stores, getting snacks and toys for the kids and a reed box full of Indian ginger/brown sugar candies for my dad. Later in the evening, the kids were content and playing with their toys and it felt like Christmas.
	Waterfalls make Selin talkative, apparently, so we talked a lot on the way to the van and in the van. She pointed out cool things, like cobra mounds (where cobras live) and gloated about having seen one more elephant than I. We made theories on what it would be like to live in one of the mountain towns that are overrun with monkeys, and obviously you would never be able to leave anything outside ("Not even children!") but it would be like a town full of malicious little kids. And when Selin and Synthia said they felt cleaner than they had since they came to India, I said I felt cleaner than I had in my whole life. They said eww but I tried to explain – because every breeze met skin joyously because it was so clean, because rubbing my palm against my other arm was an act of praise. For a while I felt clean on the inside, too, but it didn't take too long for me to be reminded that that isn't true.
	At the dam, there were two empty stone benches on a barren hillside... they had a wire trellis around them as if things were supposed to grow there, but the only living thing was one of the thorn trees... it would have looked so sad had the thorn tree not been blooming – right over the bench with huge bright red blossoms.

July 10, 9:08 p.m.

	If my entries had titles, this one would be Attack of the Aunties. As we rode in the bus on the way to Nazareth to Eve's Beauty Parlor, where I would watch Selin and her mom get facials and pedicures and things (for $2 per lengthy procedure) and study Tamil and look at the woman's birds and puppy while I waited... on the way to all that, Selin congratulated me or something on making all her relatives love me wherever I go. We talked about other things too, like how the buses are almost always packed full (ours was empty at first but filled completely, as in not a single body more could fit even standing, after we passed a girl's college) and how playing with geckos would be fun but mean since they'd lose their tails from the fright. Selin said she never stops being amused by the palm trees that have lost their tops. I told Selin of my plot to wash my own dishes.
	We came back after dark, by auto. Autos are more open than regular cars, and we were tearing down the dark empty highway (when potholes and a wedding weren't slowing us down) and I sang some, but I don't know if anyone else could hear, cause I hardly could.
	After we got back, I went out front to play Frisbee with Synthia and the younger kids. The Frisbee landed in a tree and when Synthia shook the tree, she woke a bunch of chickens roosting there. They squawked a long time, and I made fun of her.
	The craziness (if you don't consider two women with turmeric paste on their faces craziness) began when the aunties found out I'd said I'm hungry. I had said it only because no one but kids was around and because I'd just learned how to say it in Tamil. But the aunties called me over and sent their children to fetch me food, found out it wasn't ready yet and so one auntie who speaks English told me to sit in her lap and called me her daughter and asked if I wanted my hair in a plait. When I was all braided, the food was about ready. In the beginning, four of them stood around as I sat to eat. They made sure I had everything and one sent her daughter to fetch me more water promised me tasty treats tomorrow and cooled my milk and when I tried to carry my own cups back I just spilt something.
	One of the things that has always seemed strange to me is the way people often eat separately. It is practical – most houses have more people than can sit together at once, and even more people than plates, but it does not feel natural to me yet, and it allows all sorts of craziness to happen. Plus, as a result, I'm almost always the first person to eat.

July 11, 4:39 p.m.

	I just got a ride on a motorcycle!
	Sunderaj-annan, Selin's cousin's husband, gave us all rides. I sat behind Selin who was behind him. The wind was hot – today felt like real desert weather, and for once there was only a thin layer of clouds – and so strong it hurt my face. We drove just a little past town and back. At the fastest we did over 100 km/hour – about 60 mph. And of course no one wears helmets here. I have seen neither a helmet nor a seatbelt since I came.
	Also, today they killed the goat. The same one that ran away a few days ago, that they found in a neighboring village. I missed them actually killing it, but I watched them skin it and tear it apart. All the little children were watching. The men doing the work broke bones and tore fat with their bare hands sometimes, though most of the work was done with the Indian knives that seem so strangely shaped to me. They opened the chest cavity all at once, and the spill of shining entrails was quite dramatic. Little boys waved the head about.
	So much more happens every day than I write down. I learn so much more than I'll put down here.
	Last night, when I was singing in the auto, I sang my favorite song and the first verse seemed right for here. Part of me wonders what I'm doing here, lazing about, seeing things and reading. And a different part of me – although, as I keep pointing out to people who ask with amazement, I'm not homesick – a part of me is counting down the days until I come home. 
	I love all the children, especially the ones I've gotten to know – the tiny ones that call me akka or the older ones that know some English.
	One thing I learned that's worth writing down – in India, or this part anyway, reading as a pastime is looked down on, rather like TV-watching is in the U.S., so books are hard to find. Literature is not a subject in school. This makes me sad, when I think on it.
	Today a neighbor woman lifted my shirt without asking to look at my belly. Oy.
	The reed box in my suitcase makes me smile. It smells like dried meadowgrass.
	And a few days ago, we had honeycomb straight off the tree. There were still some bees on it, crawling along sleepily. It was warm and full of pollen.

July 13, 5:45 a.m.

	We leave the village today, heading back to Palayankottei. Both places are nice places to stay. The village feels very peaceful – a war could have started in the last week and I wouldn’t know it. Plus, I like being surrounded by churches. There are three in town. Last night, the Seventh-day Adventist church had all-night prayer.
	Yesterday Synthia was baptized. That was happy, and so was seeing so many cousins (Sanjay, Neola, Sonia and Anusha from the U.S. and all the Indian cousins). Church is always somewhat cheering because people sing so exuberantly (even if they can't carry a tune) and the girls in front shout out Bible verses with so much speed and excitement.
	There is the goat family I always see. One of the kids looks as if his back end has been dipped in a pot of white paint. (smiling face)
	Yesterday Selin and I got to hold goat kids that had been born just that morning! They were nervous and bleated at first when we picked them, up, and when I put mine down, he fell sprawling and had to be righted. Later the other tried to get milk, but his mother decided he'd had enough and he couldn't follow her. He looked as if he was listing in the wind and then he fell over. Meanwhile, Selin had the tiny baby in her hands and was rocking her asleep, singing and cooing to her. She had to change her skirt twice yesterday due to the babies she held. (smiling face)
	I have been reading the Gospel of John again. It is one of my favorite books. Perhaps my favorite.
	Last night the sky was not completely cloudy, so the moon lit a rainbow-colored patch in the clouds and stars twinkled in the gaps. Selin sat on the roof in the breeze and the music from all night prayer, looking at it all and talking. I think that as my happiest time here so far.
	I am becoming a milk addict!

July 14, 11:45 p.m.

	Selin jokes that I'm turning into her. "India suits you," she said. "You're watching more TV... You're getting into shopping..." I did say "Yay!" when she told me yesterday that we were going shopping. I've wanted Indian clothes for years... and now I have them. Buying them made me feel all nervous and shaky, but they will serve me well.
	Indian stores have all the clothes on shelves behind the counter, and salespeople pile possibilities before you, unfolding and refolding, offering you a stool if you are waiting or someone, greeting you Indian-style when you come in. Somehow I had thought it would be like that.
	Underwear street vendors make me laugh. So do attachable sleeves. The un-attached sleeve looks so sad, sitting by itself. (smiling face)
	I bought a big stack of combs, which I've wanted to do. Afterward, Selin said, "You're way happier about that that you should be."
	We stayed mainly in one huge store – so huge that it took up 5 or so different buildings. We often went outside and crossed the street to go to a new department. 
	We were on the third story of a store when the power went out for a minute. Back at the fair last week, the power went out and people got stuck at the top of the Ferris wheel.
	After shopping, we got a bit of food... I got fresh-squeezed orange juice that was light yellow and foamy. Wonderfulness. I also had the best samosa of my whole life so far.
	When we got back and tired everything on in our room, Selin made fun of me for fluttering my most fluttery new scarf a lot. 
	I'm glad to be back with the people here. Jemi and Esther have been pinching my cheeks (or trying to) constantly, and I've been getting them back. (laughing face)
	Today I wrote lots of letters. To my parents: "And I plan on getting a sari nice enough to wear to a friend's wedding. Too bad none of my friends plan to marry soon. "To my grandmother: "And, because you always ask, yes, there are a lot of attractive guys here."
	My new favorite part of the Bible: John 17. The idea that Jesus prayed for me floored me in the middle of the bustling sore. 
Pondicherry is still a British colony.
	In the store there were photos of models in Indian dress, and I had fun putting the heads of guys I knew onto all kinds of shirts and ties.
	It's so hot, I hope I dream of snow again.

July 17, 6:57 a.m.

	I meant to write on the train, but instead I read good things: the Bible and then fairy tales. And there was much looking out the window, as long as it was light. When we started, it was all scrub-plain and palm trees. Then it got dark and I could see only cities. At one point we passed a temple where people had gathered for a festival, and for no reason they turned around to cheer when the train went by. It made me grin.
	According to the list posted on the outside of the train, I (a.k.a. Daiana) was in Cabin B and the rest of the family was in Cabin A (it was a sleeper car, divided into cabins of four bunks each), but I just squeezed into their cabin. It wasn't terribly crowded or anything. At night I had to go to sleep with everyone else because I was in one of the top bunks and for some reason reading up there for a long time made me queasy. So I slept a while, waking up when there were loud noises or when we had been standing still a while at stations. Lying on my back, I couldn't tell what direction we were moving – only that we were moving fast.
	I told Selin I was attacked by invisible biting insects in the train and she laughed at me, and said I'm making things up.
	Now we are in Chennai, formerly Madras. And I stared all the way here, to the hotel, because it looks more like home than anything I've yet seen. It's so much greener here, and most of the trees look like they could grow at home. Driving around, we saw hardly any vendors or hand-painted signs and no livestock. There were apartment complexes and hotels like this one. There were curbs. I hadn't quite realized they'd been missing. And it was so early in the morning that it was empty, and I really did feel that I was in an old place instead of a new one. It was like an unfamiliar part of D.C. where most of the population is dark-skinned and Hindu. I even saw a girl wearing Western clothes.
	I skipped a few days because we mostly just hung around the house in Palayankottei, playing games with cousins sometimes and going out to dinner once – just us, no grownups (unless Rajkumar counts as an adult – I mean technically he does, he's 23, I mean I'm an adult too but foo) and we all ate sooo much it hurt, and it was a really fancy place, dim lighting and high prices, but still nine of us stuffed ourselves on excellent food for something like $30. And nights I read in the bathroom. But not doing any work actually started getting to me – I wanted to have work to do, and emails from Diamondback reminded me about how much I'll have to do when I get home. But reading and writing and praying aren't wasted time...

July 18, 9:32 a.m.

	First of all, any illusions I had about this place being a little like home are gone. We visited relatives yesterday, and on the way to their house we drove through a different part of town, where there were vendors, which meant there was the smell of cooking everywhere; there was also a temple, and the strong smell of incense (as worshippers moved out of the way to let our auto through), and livestock, and all the unpleasant smells that go with that. I noticed smells especially yesterday, because the ride to all the houses made me feel sick. I ended up lying around a lot in relative's house, and Selin was sicker and ended up going to the doctor. we were supposed to go sight-seeing today but we probably won't cause Selin and I are going to rest.
	So yesterday felt wasted but I guess it wasn't. I met Paline and her sister Jensi-akka, Selin's cousin who I spent a while talking to. She laughs a lot and loves movies and actors, and also Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austin. Selin read out loud the wonderful beginning, and she reads out loud so well, and the beginning is so funny... that was the best part of the day perhaps.
	On the ride back to the hotel, we drove again through the part of town that had so reminded me of home, and because of where I was sitting in the auto I couldn't see much of the trees or the glass-topped buildings... all I could see was the crazy Indian traffic (here the roads are much wider in places than I'm used to, three lanes each way sometimes, and being less than 4 feet away from other vehicles [even those with HIGHLY INFLAMMABLE written on them] is normal, and everywhere there are signs like "Please follow signs" or "Red means stop" or "Please observe lane discipline" or otherwise begging drivers to pay attention to the traffic regulations)... so all I could see was the trucks inches away, and vendors hawking pots and panties and things, and neon-light crosses an the places of adoration... the Hindu gods, with the garlands people palce around them, and the statues of Christian saints, decked out in beads and lace and garlands in almost exactly the same way. It didn't seem a bit like any of the places I've known.
	Oh yes, and yesterday I made up a fairy tale.
	And I found a map of Latvia in an old book to show Jensi-akka what I was talking about.
	I've seen far too many Indian music videos.

July 18, 5:20 p.m.

	So Selin's parents and Synthia went shopping in the best-rated store in the state. Two girls, like dressed-up twin dolls, stood at the door welcoming them, and there was free food inside – drinks and sweets.
	5:50: I just took my first hot shower since coming here. It was ridiculously nice. (face smiling wide)

July 20, 8:09 p.m.

	Yesterday we went to church and then to house after house after house, visiting relatives with Paline and Jensi-akka. In one house – I have never seen such a thing – Jensi-akka got all excited about the parts of the Bible that describe who begat whom, and she showed me all sorts of things about them. Meanwhile little girls who live nearby were peeking around the door shyly, and when they wanted to come in (because it was their aunt's house), they ran past us, laughing and shy. Also, Synthia gave me Indian M&Ms – Gems! In the other house, they set before us a plateful of pomegranate seeds – and when the wife was setting down the tray, I accidentally gasped out loud, because I had wanted pomegranates so long. The sun shone on the seeds – two varieties, red and white – so that they looked like jewels. We also ate cucumbers, which people here often eat plain or, like we got them today, with a slit down the middle full of salt and flavoring.
	After we went to the houses and were all hot and wilty, we went to the beach. The older women stayed dry but the rest of us went in and got wet up to our chests, even though we were still wearing our church clothes. As in every touristy place, there were throngs of people and table where people sold everything from cutlery to shoes, but it was sunset, and all the air pollution made the further shoreline soft and hazy on either side, and behind us the sun set orange among these graceful Indian domes and spires. At that moment, even though there were people all around yelling for us to buy or shouting to each other, the waves rolled over our feet and everything felt peaceful and all right. If I were a pagan girl I would have given the sun messages for people back home. (smiling face)
	We walked back up to the beach past the pit where people collect water and past all the cutouts of the Indian actor Synthia is obsessed over (and she commented on them all the way) to the monuments of former governors. There were wide walks and grassy places and pretty arcs out of stone overhead, and even the rats running around everywhere looked pretty.
	Then we went to a restaurant where we got rice and poory with about 15 different sauces in little tins. It was sooo good... There were so many flavors my tongue got overloaded and I stopped eating before I was full. Nothing was completely new or unusual; there was just a lot of it.
	One thing I don't like – air-conditioned restaurants (and everything else) are really air-conditioned... going into that one from the ocean, I felt so cold.
	So today we went sightseeing. Today was it seems, Reptile Day for the Mariadhas family, cause we went to a crocodile breeding place (a crocodile bank!), where we also watched the extraction of snake venom, and then to a reptile zoo. Reptile-loving Selin was happy... her sister, caring less about snakes and things, was not. In one tank in the crocodile bank were 516 crocodiles, bred to be shipped off to conservation programs and things. Beautiful white birds had built their nests within the display, where no one will bother them. A dramatically worded sign promised up "a glimpse into the secret world of crocodiles" or something, but the underwater tank there was not so exciting, showing only a crocodile sitting at the bottom, still as a stone, an the squeegee of the man cleaning the tank from above.
	The men extracting venom took lots of snakes out of pots and let them slither around their feet. One of the workers calmly went about his work as a cobra with its beautiful hood up hissed at him. We were scared for ourselves even though we were behind a wall.
	We also went to two beaches, going in only up to our waist or so each time – one place had dangerous currents, and the other had large rocks everywhere. I love the ocean so much. At the second beach we noticed blue sails out past the breakers, little square sails, and one of them folded and came close – a fishing boat made from a few logs, shaped and loosely jointed. Several came to shore while we watched, and one unloaded a catch of fish flapping under nets as they died.
	Oh, and as we watched the men extract snake venom, they took out lots of snakes and let them slither around their feet. One of the workers calmly went about his work as a cobra with its hood up (which was beautiful, but sort of scary, even though we were behind a little wall) hissed at him.
	Indian bread is sweet, so bread with butter tastes like a special cake. That's what I had for dinner.

July 21, 9:40

	We spent just about the whole day shopping. I got a shawl for Zuz, a package of handkerchiefs, and a sari the color of the sky at that quiet time when the sun has set and the sky is so blue it almost hurts. But none of that is very important.
	Walking to one of the stores today, we crossed a street so busy I got caught in the middle, and every step I took I made an auto or a car or a motorcycle stop and some honked, and I just went back to the side where I started and crossed a little later.
	By the stores, vendors shove what they sell in our faces... lots of them are children... and they will often follow you for a block or more. I always at least try to speak to them, even if it's to say I don't want this or that, and to make eye contact, but sometimes even I just stare straight ahead and ignore them.
	There are more beggars here than in the other places we've stayed. Many people live by the side of the road, and often children will play right in the road, sitting beside the curb and smiling at the pile of pebbles between their feet that they are playing with. A few days ago I saw a family with lots of tiny barefoot children spending the night on the back of a cart by the roadside.
After we spent a long time in various stores, Selin's mother wanted to go into the best – Pothy's. Selin and I sat outside with a crowd of other waiting women. I kept myself happily occupied by taking pictures of the crazily busy street below or of various strangers. Later, when they came out, Synthia went on and on about the free food and drinks, and urged me inside to get free glass bangles. The woman giving them out gave me more than I saw her give anyone else, smiling at me and holding my fingers so that I wouldn't go away while she gathered more into her hand. She mounted them on me herself, and I had I think 15, and I made a pretty glass tinkling all evening.
	We went to a relative's. Jennifer, who was about 5, had inherited Selin's and Synthia's old Connect Four set, and I tried to teach her how to play by beating her over and over. She didn't pick it up, though, so at the end I let her win once.
	We went up on the roof and chatted with the neighbors who were up there. They offered me flowers for my hair and wanted to give us food, although they didn't know us at all. I ended up getting flowers downstairs in Jennifer's house. They smelled so sweet.
	Crowding all five of us into an auto is tricky and makes my feet go numb.
	I am sunburnt from yesterday. Showing it to Synthia and other Indians is fun and shocking because they have never seen such a thing.
	The weather here is having some cool streak – it should be much hotter than this pleasant heat. I always wear my jacket in the hotel room and hotel restaurant, because of the too-effective air-conditioning.
	I will give the bangles to my sisters.
	I wish I had a good story to write.
	Sometimes they paint the horns of oxen bright colors – blue, or red, or one horn of each.

July 22, 5:52 a.m.

	In the airport to fly to Delhi. We left so early, the hotel's hallways were all dark and I felt like we were fleeing the city.

July 22, 10:31 p.m.

	The Qutab Minar is a really tall tower that looks plain and boring in all the pictures, but is graceful and beautiful up close. It's covered with carvings and the whole thing is in different shades of red stone, and looking up and up gives a nice feeling, somehow. Around are arches and little cupolas and shady places with rows of columns, all kinds of carvings and delicate shapes, and wherever there wasn't stone it was so green, lush trees and grass. It would have been nice to wander around there, but we did not because it was too hot.
	Afterward we did touristy things, like museums. The one I liked was the one about Gandhi... it had a lot of his writings and his ideas in it, and so it gave a lot to think about. Mitra would have liked it too.
	Then we drove a lot. First we drove around Delhi, past famous monuments and graves we did not want to get out and see. We got stuck in a traffic jam, I think because a train was stopped in front of the road, and we just sat there for an hour. It rained big huge drops, and I wanted to go stand on the median with other bored motorists but just stayed inside with Selin's family.
	Oh, I forgot. When I was on the plane to Delhi, I saw a beautiful building as we were descending – it looked like a white lotus blossom in a green field. It's a shrine where anyone can go, so we went – inside it's huge and silent. Like in all churches or temples here, we had to take off our shoes. The marble was cool underfoot. I would have liked to sit a while, but we left soon – I said leaving was fine, and it was – but that was a nice place, and I could have sat there a long time. It is a shrine dedicated to world peace.
	We left Delhi driving south and drove for hours. We kept passing people carrying decorated buckets of water from the Ganges, bringing it back to their village to put on the Hindu idols. The pilgrims would rest in tents along the road, and people would give them food for free. Most looked about our age, or maybe a little older. Many of them have a long walk home.
	The drive was through wet places, into the states of Haryana and then Rajastan. At first the wetness made everything look dingy – a coat of paint on a house will stay pretty for much longer in a dry place, after all. But then we went past soaking rice fields and then into the green fields and the tree-covered mountains, the buildings still dingy but the rest of the land so bright. Women wear such bright shawls there – in the evening, when it was cooler, we saw many people working in the fields, either with short hoes in between roads of crops, or with livestock. We saw flocks of wooly sheep as well as goats that looked like they were polka-dotted, and of course cows and camels. Camels often went by on the road, pulling carts.
	Of course there were monkeys in the mountains. And there were flinty mountains that seemed to have no life on them, but which would sometimes have buildings perched high on the cliffs. I tried to imagine living there.
	As we drove past a field we saw a group of people gathered around a tree, and from a tree limb hung as wing, and everyone was watching this one guy swinging high. It looked like a lot of fun. (smiling face)
	All day long we saw people carrying enormous bundles of grass on their heads. Even in public parks in the center of Delhi, people were bundling up mown grass – for their animals, I figure. 
	Driving, we saw lots of tiny round huts with peaked roofs. 
	After dark we drove into Jaipur – the pink city. It really is pink – the stores along the road were all lit up, and above them I could see beautifully carved pink stone buildings. We passed a brightly lit temple – strings of lights all around – and of course there were lots of beggars in the streets. Children tapped on our car windows to ask for money when we were at stoplights.
	There were so many other pictures I wanted to describe but I forgot them now. But... it it easy to look at the green fields here and to think that you love them.
	A few days ago, Selin and I saw a bunch of naked, very dark boys playing ball in a field. Today I saw a group of older kids – with clothes on – playing soccer. Both times made me smile.