Finally!!

We got an early Christmas present: 5 shipping containers full of our household effects shipment! Only one broken mason jar so far (knock on wood). It also contained a bookcase without its shelves, a shelf without its media cabinet, and two glass panes without their coffee table. Who knows when the furniture will be whole again?

Gabriel weds Priya

If you follow this blog at all, you know that we were recently guests of honor at our driver's daughter's wedding. Ashok has been talking and stressing out about this wedding from the moment he started working for us (and before that, too, I'm sure), so I looked forward to the Great Event with a lot of curiosity.

We were honored guests at Joseph's wedding back in September, but this was an entirely different affair. There are differences in economic status and (I suspect) social caste, and Joseph was the groom and had little to do with planning the event. Ashok, on the other hand, is a proud father of the bride and under pressure to put on a show. Indian weddings are insanely lavish. There's a long post's worth of discussion about the wisdom/morality of this, but I'll save that for another time and instead show you a bit of Priya and Gabriel's wedding.

I've mentioned before that Priya's engagement was the talk of the Consulate community. It's a "love marriage," which is still extremely uncommon here (most marriages are arranged by the parents) AND she converted from Hinduism to Catholicism during the courtship. Ashok seems totally fine with it all. He told me he's happy that she's happy, and I really think that's true. There's been all kinds of drama about it in the extended family, but you'd never know it from the partying that went on at this wedding.

The ceremony was at San Thome Basilica, which is believed to be built over the tomb of St. Thomas, one of the 12 apostles of Christ. I didn't know until I moved here that Thomas is thought to have traveled to India in AD 52 and that the traditional site of his martyrdom is here in Chennai. Another post for another day.

We were waiting in the church for Priya to arrive, when suddenly we heard what sounded like a small marching band out in the street. John ran out the front to see what was going on and discovered that the music was announcing Priya's arrival! Our friend Anne-Claire (also a wedding guest) assured us that this did not happen at her Catholic wedding in Texas.

You can just see the band behind the groom's shoulder. That's a very proud Ashok in the pink shirt. Behind him you can see the orange canopy welcoming people to the reception across the street.

Priya was so decked out in jewelry that she absolutely glittered walking down the aisle. There's always room for more gold, though. The weddings we've seen here so far don't include a ring ceremony, but the groom places gold jewelry around the bride's neck.

Shortly after this, we got to participate by throwing flower petals and rice at the couple. They do it during the ceremony rather than on the way out of the church, but it has a similar meaning -- blessing for the couples' future.

Priya's red and gold sari is traditional Hindu wedding dress, while the white veil is Christian.

The ceremony ended with an exchange of these enormous flower garlands.

San Thome Basilica is a sightseeing stop, so right around this point in the ceremony a huge group of Korean tourists swarmed us and started taking pictures of everyone and everything. Awkward! I mean, it's one thing for John to be up in everyone's faces (he's the one who took most of these photos). He was invited -- an honored guest, people! The scene made me want to be more aware of what I might be interrupting as a tourist.

Here's a first family photo of the married couple.

After the ceremony, we had some time to kill before heading over to the reception. We spent some of it hanging out with the other newlyweds.

Queen Mary, Joseph, Evie, and Samuel

Gopal with Samuel

Meanwhile, Priya and Gabriel headed to the car ... Why?? The reception was across the street! Granted, it was a very busy street. There were men stationed on either side of the road whose job was to walk out in front of oncoming traffic and get cars/autorickshaws/motorbikes/buses/etc. to stop so guests could cross from the basilica to the reception hall. I'm happy to report that we all made it to the party and later back to the car with no injury.

The bride and groom were accompanied by the band, of course.

We also took a little time to explore the church and to see the tomb of St. Thomas, which you reach through a building behind the main church. It was a beautiful place, and it was both peaceful and exciting to think we were standing where one of the original Twelve might have stood. There's a beautiful stained glass window at the back of the church that depicts the "Doubting Thomas" scene from the Bible.

And here's the church from the front, all lit up. This photo might give an idea of the kind of traffic we had to wade through to get to the reception, too.

I just had to include this picture of us outside the reception hall. There were gigantic displays like this one all over the place. Some were made with shiny fabrics, some with flowers, but all were enormous! This is where my Western sensibilities clash with Indian ideas regarding beauty, or classy-ness, or whatever.  I have no idea what Johnny thinks he's doing ... or what Samuel and Evie are looking at ... or why there's a motorcycle parked in front of this obviously important, expensive display.

The necklace I'm wearing reminds me that I nearly committed a major fashion faux pas. This was my first time wearing a sari (since high school, anyway). My neighbor helped me wrap it, and I thought I was good to go. She offered me some bangles, but my hands are huge so none of them fit. No big deal. But it is a big deal! As we were leaving, my friends' driver (Ashok was a little busy with the wedding, so we caught a ride) asked in shock: "Are you going bare?!?" Bare? He explained that I couldn't go to the wedding without jewelry or I'd bring horribly bad luck to the bride and groom. What was I thinking? I raced back upstairs and found a necklace and bracelet so as not to ruin the evening for everyone. My jewelry collection is pretty sad. I hope to rectify this situation, but I need someone who knows something about jewelry to help me out. Anyone? I keep getting told that India is THE place to buy jewelry.

Moving on.

I've decided that it must be dreadful to be the bride and groom at an Indian wedding. There's all this partying going on around you -- music, good food, general excitement and happiness -- and all you get to do is be on display. My friend Kirsten, who married an Indian American in a Hindu ceremony, confirms this idea. Here's what Gabriel and Priya did for hours:

They do look fantastic, though. Here's their audience:

Ashok and his wife draped us with the jasmine garlands as we entered the hall to honor us as principal guests. We also got a front row seat and saw our pictures flashed on a huge TV with alarming frequency. Johnny was eyeing the cake, and he's still annoyed that we left before he got a piece. I don't think cake was served until well into the night, and we wanted to get the kids into bed at a reasonable hour. Sorry, Johnny.

John thinks it's hilarious that I'm all dressed up and carrying this well-used diaper bag. I like this diaper bag. It's very useful.

After we had our picture taken with Gabriel and Priya, we went downstairs for the best part of any Indian party: the food! It was plentiful and delicious. Since some of the guests were Brahmin, they had a separate room for the strict vegetarians.

The Westerners were given plates and spoons, while the Indians were served on banana leaves, following South Indian tradition. This photo shows a small part of the hall, and upstairs was packed, too. I wouldn't be surprised if there were more than 1,000 guests.

Look! Biriyani!

I wish I had gotten a photo of the food preparation area, but I only saw it on a sprint to the bathroom with Evie. Everything was cooked in huge black pots over coal fires by men wearing lungis.

Lots of people come to Chennai for a two-year post and never get to see a wedding, so we've been really lucky to be invited to two. We will be attending our third just after Christmas. This one will be a Hindu ceremony, and we've been asked to take the role of the bride's family. Stay tuned!

Gathering jasmine

Cricket

Johnny and his friend Anthony like playing cricket in the driveway.

Samuel's aspirations

Have I mentioned that Samuel wants to be an autorickshaw driver when he grows up? He's been practicing in the three-wheeled trucks the maintenance crews leave parked in the driveway.

Apollo Children's Hospital x2

The hardest thing about being Mom here is living with the knowledge that there is no 911.

We had a scary reminder of this a couple of weeks ago, when Samuel woke in the night laboring to breathe. We thought he might be having an asthma attack, since he hadn't shown any signs of being sick, so we called the Consulate nurse, Deborah, for help. We could see that Samuel was losing color in his lips and face and that he was sucking in his muscles under his ribs in an effort to breathe, so we decided to take him to the emergency room at Apollo Children's Hospital.

The next hour was probably the most panicked of my life. We had our car, and John has experience driving here, but we weren't sure how to get to the hospital. Deborah and Olivia (another nurse at the Consulate) asked the hospital to send an ambulance, but after waiting over 30 minutes for it to arrive, we gave up on that. We finally decided to drive to the Consulate and have Olivia talk us to the hospital from there, since we knew it was in the general area.

Thankfully, Samuel seemed to improve a little during all the commotion. We got him there and into the ER, where a doctor saw us immediately. Samuel and I spent the rest of the night in the emergency room, where he got a series of nebulizer treatments and a chest X-ray. Here he is in all his misery.

It turned out to be a serious case of croup. His chest X-ray was clear and he didn't respond to albuterol, which ruled out asthma. The breathing treatments worked their magic, and late the next morning John came to pick us up. He brought me a Diet Coke, which proves how much he loves me. Here we are after our sleepless night.

Here are some things I learned from the excitement:

1. A hospital tour is not enough. Shortly after we arrived in Chennai, the Consulate set up a tour of Apollo's main hospital and the Children's Hospital so newcomers would be familiar with them in case of emergency. I think the idea is to set some fears to rest. I'm really glad I went on the tour, because once we got to the hospital I didn't have the stress of being in a new place. I knew where to go and basically what to do. HOWEVER, the hospital tour did not address the all-important detail of how to get there. That might sound ridiculous, but remember that the Consulate strongly recommends that we hire a driver here. In 6 months, I've driven our car about three feet down the driveway. John drives a bit more, but not much. And there are people at the Consulate who think we're pretty adventurous. In the middle of the night, the driver is fast asleep at home, over an hour away in our case. Also, no 911. One of the first things I'm going to do at our next post is drive myself to and from the hospital a couple of times.

2. The next time I go to a hospital in India, I will remember to bring food and water (unless I'm too panicked, of course).

3. There is a reason Indian patients have the entire extended family in tow. I kept having people walk up to me and say things like this: "We need to give another nebulizer treatment, but we're out of the medicine so you need to go over to the pharmacy and buy some more." I'd be happy to do that, but in the meantime what do I do with the screaming child that is hooked up to your monitors here? I talked to the doctor, who agreed to send someone to the pharmacy for me. Thank you, random hospital gofer.

4. Everything in India happens in a crowd. I know I've mentioned this before. There is no such thing as privacy here. John took this really lousy clandestine photo of the emergency room to try to illustrate this idea.

I've decided that the biggest culture shock for me here has been dealing with the sheer number of people. They are everywhere. It's hard to explain what I mean. There are 1.2 billion people in India, and it always feels like at least half of them are standing right there in the room with you. The emergency room was no exception. And the woman in the next cot was snoring like you wouldn't believe.

5. We have great neighbors and a fantastic Consulate community. People were up in the dead of night helping us figure this out, staying with the kids, making sure we got to where we needed to be and saw the doctors we needed to see. For the next few days, everyone checked on us and asked what they could do to help. We felt loved.

6. A trip to the hospital here is full of drama, but the good news is that the doctors were good. The doctor on the overnight shift was fine, but the two doctors we saw in the morning were great. So once you find the doctor, you should be in good hands.

So that was my first experience (aside from the tour) with Apollo Children's Hospital. The pediatrician who gave Samuel his final checkup in the emergency room heard a heart murmur, and that leads me to Hospital Experience Number 2.

Dr. Meena heard the murmur and said that though it was minor and probably nothing, we should get it checked just to be sure. I have a minor heart murmur myself, so I wasn't too worried. It never hurts to check, though. Olivia at the Consulate arranged for an appointment with a cardiologist.

The appointment was yesterday. Since the emergency room visit went so smoothly (once we got to the hospital, anyway) I naively thought that this was going to be quick and easy. Silly me. The appointment was at 11:30 a.m. I dutifully arrived on time, got registered ... and didn't leave until almost 3 p.m.

I'll spare you the blow-by-blow account and skip to the highlight. The place was packed and just insane. Sick kids and their entourages of parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles were milling around everywhere. There was not an open seat to be found and people were lining all the walls. Against this backdrop, I was expected to get Samuel to fall asleep so we could get an echocardiogram done. What!?!

Samuel drank the sedative like a champ, but the minute he started to feel drowsy it was time for a fight. He was NOT going to be forced to go to sleep. A nurse suggested I take him into the nursing mothers room where it would be quieter. I walked in to find about 10 Tamil women dying to pinch Samuel's cheeks and compare his cuteness to their babies'. Samuel and I walked all over that packed hospital in a desperate wrestling match. He screamed, writhed and twisted, trying to stay awake. I glared enviously at the other babies and toddlers who peacefully dropped off to sleep in their mothers' arms. What is WRONG with my children?

After a good 45 minutes of this, Samuel finally slept. Then I had to wait for two other procedures to finish before it was our turn. I was near tears, starving (I hadn't had lunch), and scared to death he was going to wake up before we could get into the ECHO room.

The happy ending to all this is that the heart murmur really is nothing. Samuel's heart is perfectly fine, the murmur is slight, and he'll probably grow out of it. I really liked the cardiologist, but I hope I never have to see him or the inside of that hospital ever again.