Road trips are finicky lil’ vacations filled with tumultuous beasts that depend on a number of variables. For instance, the type of vehicle it takes place in, the number of hours before arriving at the preferred destination, the passengers, their relation to the drivers, over active bladders, over zealous bellies…yup, the whole gamut. So sit back and prepare yourself to enjoy our explorative journey into Pittsburg, Amerika.
( no really, grab a snack cuz this bollywood-esque review is sans intermission)
Appa decided that for his birthday he’d like to cordon his troops and go on a quasi religious excursion. So after a ton of negotiations about the date, we arrived at the conclusion that this trip would have to be short cuz R couldn’t sleep out for more than one night. A van was booked, directions were printed out, no sandwiches were packed (thank gawd, the last thing we needed was the rank odor of soggy tuna wafting over our slumbering heads only to abruptly choke us once we awoke) and we each packed A bag. Some were of course, larger than others.
Hey, I can’t help it if I need a god darn flat iron – being beautiful is hard work people.
R&M did most of the driving on the trip – after a few wrong turns, missed exits and re-visited toll-booths, we found our way to the Holiday Inn in Pittsburg, Transylvania. The fact that these damn yanks charge you for driving through their country is laudable enough without factoring in their insane ability to open up these 24 hour Walmarts – giving us more of a reason to render ourselves completely broke.
(Yup, count that – 41 words in 1 sentence –im a textologist and obviously a believer in run-on sentences.)
Either way, getting past our hurdles, we all got changed and drove up to the Pittsburg Temple – Temple number one on our list. I’m telling you, brown people are infamous for these religious pilgrimages (that’s actually what dad told the guy at the border – yup, me and these 6 slightly suspicious looking tanned people are crossing over for a pilgrimage - ). Tamil folk can’t seem to leave the country without mapping out and falling prey to the temple circuit.
I always question this though: does Lord Ganesh or Shiva care that you just saw him at three different places in the last 24 hours? I mean, is there such a thing as over-exposing yourself to the powers that be? And whatever happened to us experiencing our religious beliefs in an inherent, visceral manner? Not that I mind temples – I enjoy the shanti it brings me. But I can imagine M’s apprehension, his discomfort and how bloody much he must love me to put up with me and my “suddenly religious” family.
The temple was gorgeous. The lingam was ridiculously beautiful. Each deity in his /her own samaj. Each housed in magnificence, encased in enough bling to send Luda into a tizzy – the whole place was just light and flighty. I immediately fell in love with the architecture of each vestibule, simple yet complex – the perfect oxymoron and a rather impressionable one at that.
The sambar rice and the lemon rice was absolutely titillating to my taste buds. I wanted to crawl into mom’s lap and relive childhood memories. Although, amma wasn’t in many of them – the maid was. But no matter, it still brought back vibes of safety and security and fooooooood – not just a content sigh from my belly – but a tantalizing roller coaster for my palate.
I want to live in a temple. No joke, I’ve always wanted to do something religious with myself. Not join the pilgrimage circuit, but to be a part of the actual institution – I went through many a phase like the destined to be a nun, priestess, monk, tribal healer, black queen and spoken word warrior – just a few of the many that hovered on my plate. And sometimes, I still feel slivers of those yearnings haunting me. Although, I think that the food they serve at religious institutions had a little something to do with that decision.
Either way – adequately blessed and belly full – the 7 of us trudged back to the van. And that’s when we hit Target. A dream come true. I have been addicted to the Target website for weeks – printing out things, pictures, directions – virally salivating. I know they don’t ship to Canada, yet I have an online shopping cart filled to the brim in the hopes that they might change their effin policies. Thankfully, R& M made sure we made it to Target, just so that I’d quit bugging them.
God I was excited, pee my pants excited - only to realize that it was a glorified Zellers. EEEEEGADS. My dreams shot – I still managed to procure a pepto bismol pink short trench by Isaac and a pleated skirt that R thinks is absolutely hideous. She calls it my ‘slave girl’ swag. Then we hit DSW (the mecca of shoes), where M bought me the most adorable pointy toed flat Rocket Dogs (my newest obsession) and to Marshalls where I got the sexiest bra’s for $5. Through the entirety of our shop-a-thon, Amma and Appa nestled themselves in the backseat of their rental and went to sleep.
Yup, this was his birthday trip. He chose to sleep most of it away. Parents..
Either way, the shops were closing so M & R drove us back to the Inn and went exploring (aka foraging for beer). R was in heaven when he found the DSW equivalent of beer at a Beer mart. They bought back a 24 case of tallboy Coors cans. Yup, they drank all of 4 maybe. We went out for dinner sans Amma and Rashmi and then called it a night out of sheer exhaustion.
Day 2: Had some breakfast, packed up our stuff (I brought along waaaay more than I needed) and then we hit Grove City. The mecca for people who get off on outlet shopping. I think we spent a good 3 hours there and trust me, by the end of it I was bitchin belly broke but, that didn’t seem to matter. I made out great at the GAP – a yummy skirt, a khakhi blazer. I got a tee that reads “high maintenance” and appropriately so. I also got a bunch of other stuff from other places that I don’t quite remember (I’m certain that M is shaking his head in distress – my love affair with things often don’t get past the 48 hour mark).
I prefer to think of them as ‘trysts’ or ‘flings’ as opposed to affairs. Albeit I pine for them like they might be of the latter variety.
After that we drove to the Rochester temple. Well we thought that’s where we were headed but R actually took us elsewhere. Still a temple. So he can’t be blamed. Tempers were starting to flare, people were getting argumentative but by sheer luck – a couple of nice Indian fellows led us to the real temple. So we got there at like 7:30pm on a Sunday night.
Yup, 7:30 on a Sunday night and we were just starting on Temple number 2.
This temple was gorgeous – and it’s built by the sheer power and labour of volunteers. Which is quite impressive. Apparently, people travel from all over the world to help out and do some ‘seva’ (religious work) in the hopes of garnering a piece of the marketshare of the blessings that Lord Ganesh, Shiva and the crew dole out. Either way – I was blessed to be there with all the people I loved. And I would definitely like to go back.
In fact, its where I hope to get married.
One day.
No hints.
No subtle prodding.
Just the wish of a lonely little girl …. * sniff sniff*
☺
So while we were busy garnering some divine votes of confidence at the Rochester temple, M generously offered to de-tag and de-price all our procured goodies so that it passes through the border without getting taxed. He was meticulous – that’s my boy! If accounting doesn’t work out – smuggling. That’s his next big career move. And so we got everything past the border.
Yup, seven people who all spent atleast a hundred dollars a piece who voluntarily screwed the system without batting an eyelash!
I love brown people – especially the ones that belong to me.
We drove past the ‘welcome to Toronto’ sign and collectively sighed in relief. I think we pulled into our drive way around 11ish.
Tired.
Grumpy.
Sleepy.
And glad to be back home.
God, I missed Sparx and Trix.
I’m gonna assume that they missed me too.
The boys took off and we ended our weekend with watered down hugs and repeated reassurances that we had a great time.
I think the folks enjoyed it. It made them feel adequately tethered to their litter.
You see, I realized on that trip – how awesome our lives are truly going to be. The people I love, love each other. Sure they bicker. And nag. And get hostile. And sometimes claws come out. Someone loses an eye on occasion. But at the end of the night, all we seem to need to have a great time is each other.
And that reassures me.
Makes me feel complete.
This weekend was the first time the boys were invited on a sleep over trip. A huge honkin deal on Appa’s part. To him this wasn’t just a trip – this was his official welcome to the clan. Now regardless of the spine tingling undertones a la the Soprano’s – we should focus on the positive and that means that the boys have an extra place to call home.
And we have an extra bunch of hands to lift things, carry things and drive things forward.
Like the rest of our lives.
It really is fun when you find those perfect pieces that complete the puzzle.
Almost people. We are almost complete.
Next post: The drama that followed our trip to Transylvania.
Back-blogging is a pain in the ass. But it certainly makes each memory more tangible.
Oh - I also seem to have picked up a linguistic equivalent of a bad habit - i seem to have generously smattered this post with "either way this" and "either way that" - now this embarrassing boo-boo is officially done.
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