When You Bleed, You Think About Life


Facing Truths

“How long has this been going on?”

I couldn’t see the doctor from my position, on my back, as light pierced my eyes. The only visible shape was the outline of her body, a white aura bleeding around her face. Just a disembodied voice tinged with disapproval.

“Six days.”

I lied. Maybe I just didn’t want to face the truth myself. It had really been seven days of spotting on and off.

I knew it was stupid to leave the problem so long. You prolong knowing. I drank too much in my early thirties, smoked a heap of cigarettes. My age is a factor. Even my sexual choices cast a shadow.

Somewhere in the recesses of my memories, I kept wondering if this was happening well before my last intimate encounter, and I chose to ignore it.

I had just got in from Udaipur that morning, threw my bags at Mystique Moments, and rushed out again for this dreaded appointment.

The rickshaw driver had no idea where Fortis La Femme was; I was late, then barreled in sweating and exhausted.

With barely time to breathe in the stifling 40-degree weather, she uttered something that woke me from any travel anxiety.

“We need to do some tests, probably an ultrasound to see what might be going on.”

I gulped.

Everything Flashes

As she prepared me for the ultrasound, instructing me to lie down, placing a towel across my stomach, everything rushed at me.

Staph definitely rattled me. Yet, that can be annihilated with strong antibiotics.

This could be much worse. I knew it, could not ask her out loud.

This could be the big C.

The specter of my past and future slid in

April 30th, 2011|Categories: Life, New Delhi|Tags: , , |33 Comments

I’m in Love… With My Guesthouse

I didn’t know what to expect when the rickshaw dropped me off in the old town of Udaipur. Reviews said Mewargarh Palace is decent and boast fair and accommodating owners. See, after so many couches, Murphy Beds, and unwashed sheets I’ve become cynical.

As though nothing could possibly please me now. I stood outside the dull brown latched door, pressed the doorbell, and walked in bracing myself.

I dropped my backpacks and lightening struck. Love. At first sight. Does that even happen anymore? My insides told me –  yes! Amore.

The charming courtyard:

Intricate window design:

My enchanting little room. He only charged me 400 RS for a 500 RS room!

Biggest bathroom I’ve had in India:

Cannot get over the adorable sunflower pillow:

Window and pale blue wooden shutters overlooking the courtyard:

Rooftop restaurant:

View from roof:

Chill out area:

My breakfast. Apple pancakes with fruit and sweet chai masala tea:

April 27th, 2011|Categories: Travel Tips, Udaipur|Tags: , , , |36 Comments

Rajasthan – Jewel of India

When the train lurches, propelling itself from the platform in Delhi, leaving behind the dense, smoggy air and the concrete monoliths that are brimming with families, that familiar tug of motion bubbles. A nugget of knowledge that you are onwards somewhere new, saddling uncharted waters.

The volume of traffic and decibels of honking is a faraway din to your ears, as is the lonely, howling dogs. All is drowned out by the pre-recorded train boardings warbling from the loudspeakers at the station. Your berth and seat number afford some insulation as sprawling Delhi begins to fade.

Maybe it’s the twinkle of morning or the dregs of night. Indian trains always seem the same whatever departure time, a crawling snake the shade of what a depressed sky might look like, a pale blue tinged with grey. The snake moves faster, changing the landscape from city to country.

You take out the crumpled ticket in your pocket and stare at it. Jaipur. Sort of a mystery, yet to be unfolded.

You might snooze for a spate; tinkle around with a novel you’re reading, until finally the mystery unravels.

The window beckons.

Pink jewel mountainous ranges kissing the indigo sky. Acres of wheat fields where bushels wait to be claimed. Dust covered, anorexic trees. Camels as work animals or show pieces for foreigners.

The train window reflects light and shadow. Images

April 25th, 2011|Categories: Culture, Rajasthan|Tags: , , , |21 Comments

Inception and Being Awake

This is how I feel today:

  • Stressed. So much of my time was shot in India because of that staph monkey on my back. How do I maximize the rest in two weeks?!
  • Scared.  About the future. I absolutely do not want to return to my old life. Next steps are returning to Canada for TBEX in my hometown, work on some projects over the summer and ponder Latin America for the fall. If none of these pan out, not sure what’s in store. Pondering such nightmarish thoughts, stress me out!
  • A failure. I really get swayed by what others receive or what they’re doing. You lose sight when the majority of time is burned worrying about popularity contests, or whether your message makes an impact.

Then, once in a while, you write a piece that reawakens purpose. Fear and doubt can be a sucker punch, one that leaves you winded and confused. I don’t wag my tail often, yet I’m proud of this one, a beaming parent encircling her beloved child. This one sent me back to the beginning.

Guest post for End the Grind:

How Inception Nearly Defined Me.

Today, I actually feel invincible.

Inception photo courtesy of Blame The Analyst

April 18th, 2011|Categories: Life|Tags: , , , , |17 Comments

The Perils of the Solo Female Traveler

Lately, people keep drilling me about India.

Is there dysentery, floating ashes, dust or monsoons that could drown a buffalo?

Well, all of the above.

Mostly, though, there are men. Lots of them. I liken my luck to three things, which somehow leads me to some interesting situations.

Yesterday I boarded a train from Delhi, landed in Jaipur four hours later and was guaranteed a pick up at the train station.

How nice, I thought. Zaffa showed up on behalf of the guesthouse that I never even booked.

My Delhi savior, Dr. Malik, arranged a hotel for me in Jaipur due to some credit card snags. Otherwise, I usually do coordination myself. It’s funny what happens when you let go.

The only information I had was the name, address and mobile number scrawled on the back of my train confirmation.

Zaffa was a gem, making sure to negotiate a decent taxi price to the guesthouse. Good thing, because it wasn’t even remotely in Jaipur city, but outside.

I arrived and the room is nice for 700 RS. Not to mention my own bathroom, with shower. I felt like a princess. In the lobby, there was a crew of men, not abnormal for India, because friends usually hang together for hours on end.

Everything seemed hunky dory except the staring is intense this time. Laser focused on my every twitch or uttered word. They come in clusters to watch my conversations with the front desk guy, glued to us, like they are witnessing a car crash.

Last night I came back from sight seeing and got aroused into conversation with two cheeky guys who plan to ditch

April 17th, 2011|Categories: Jaipur|Tags: , , , , , , |20 Comments

This is Why I Love Travel

Just met an amazing South African woman who is involved in education and community development. She’s helping disadvantaged women who normally work as domestic help in the townships by jump starting cottage industries in honey producing and crafts that sell in Switzerland. Her and her husband are buying a property to live in and want to convert the existing one into a homestay for backpacker/budget travelers.


Nah, not interested (lie).

She recounted her dream to travel all the places her deceased mother wanted to go. Next is Israel and Egypt. What struck a nerve most is when she talked about her family.

“I’m taking care of my brother. He’s 38, now brain dead and paralyzed. It was a motorcycle accident.”

Self-pity just got tossed out the window. Her brother will never be able to travel again or ride his free bird (motorcycle).

She called Buenos Aires a cheeky, sexy city. And is hankering to see Tanzania and Madagascar someday. She always, always travels solo, leaving her scientist hubby behind.


Dorm rooms: not always, what you think.

In our daily lives, we thrive on assumptions. Hell, I use to.

It’s a choice to dismiss talking to that old, boring person. Don’t dismiss. Open yourself.

You, too, might end up staying at a house with a full kitchen, a garden and ocean view in a-effing-a South Africa.

Time to adjust my travel plans for 2012.

April 15th, 2011|Categories: Life, New Delhi|Tags: , , , , , |17 Comments