confronting my greatest fears

My greatest airport fear came to fruition when we arrived at night in Amritsar and exited the airport. After each prior city arrival, we were greeted with a friendly sign outside the rail station or airport with "Mr. Jason and Audrey". That sign meant safe passage to our hotel and no wrangling with random taxi drivers. Well, in Amritsar there was no sign. We got out there and stood awkwardly trying to find our ticket to ride, but no go. After a few minutes, one of the other drivers holding a sign for a tour group asked if we needed help. We explained the situation and I pulled out the number for Bilal who had been setting up all our travel arrangements. The man was kind enough to call Bilal and we worked things out. Bilal hadn't read my last email carefully about our arrival time and was expecting us later in the evening. About 20 minutes later we got our driver, white scarf and all. He whisked us off and all was good.

The saving grace to all this was arrival at the newest hotel. This would be our last residence for four days. The Ranjit Svaasa Haveli had multiple levels of red brick architecture with canopied balconies all over. There were roof terraces and eclectic seating areas with rustic furniture tucked into every outside space. Each passageway was decorated with herb gardens and splaying green plants that you need to duck under to move about. 

Wait.... okay, okay, that was my observation the next morning. How did I feel when I got to our room? I was totally strung out and disoriented. We had spent the last day navigating the Indian airport system, which requires a full security check even for plane transfers.  I needed beer and Internet and my jammies. The beer came promptly from a kind young gentleman named Raj. Beer, check.

Now I needed to find the Internet so I could feel connected to the outside world and let people know we had survived. I found the security password written in the back of the guest book. "Connecting....Connecting...., Failed to connect." In my head I was screaming the biggest "Khaaannnn!" like scream. I could not cope. What to do now? I thought for a few minutes and remembered that the last hotel we were at had not set up the security on their Wifi router. So, of course I donned my Matthew Broderick "War Games" hacker gear and went to work to find me some Internets. I'll skip the technical details here lest you learn the secrets, but I manually connected to the router from my phone and reset it. After that my wife was able to connect and there was probably a collective sigh from the rest of the addict's rooms. Internet, check.

I felt a sense of empowerment and gleefully put on my jammies. Since our luggage had arrived earlier at the airport unharmed, I had regained control over my life. I had a true smile on my face. Jammies, check.

We finished our beers, our Internet fix, and settled into our bed. I tossed and turned all night though. The disorientation of the day at the airport and the journey to our new abode had left me unsure where and when I was. We were in Amritsar, a city just south of the Indian-Pakistan border. It's a place of uncertainty and has a history of conflict. I think I was feeling it. Let's hope my next greatest fear doesn't come true.

Udaipur, the most romantic city in India

[Second Edit, 12-Feb]

We're done with the trains, now on to the planes. On Feb. 4th we departed from Jaipur and took our first domestic plane trip to Udaipur, which is further south in Rajastan. This city of lakes is known as the most romantic city in India. We planned to stay 5 days there but we didn't have a driver to take us around because most sites can be accessed by foot. Our new hotel was a quaint haveli in the middle of the busy area in Old Udaipur, with lakeside views from the rooftop. It was nice to have 5 days to tour and rest as we saw fit. It was time to do less exploring of the outside world and let the relaxed atmosphere help us explore our inner world.

The Poonam Haveli people treated us very well. We made sure to get to know them since we were spending so much time. The head cook was named Deepak and would often come out and greet the guests on the rooftop restaurant. He always had a smile on his face and was eager to please in a casual and social way. The head waiter, Shankar, had a kind and gentle humor. Each night he knew our initial order, "beer number one?" After five days with the same people they start to feel like family. We all shared photos of our children from our phones and talked about our respective families.

We had booked the largest suite in advance of our arrival. Though the room was big, the furniture was sparse. When we discovered that we had no place to put our clothes we let them know. This sparked a bit of attention from them. They gave us some hangers for the three hooks in the bedroom to hang all our clothes. Later that night the owner came up to us at dinner and apologized for the lack of storage. He said there were a number of improvements they were working on, and that was one of them. He offered us a few shots of rum and all was better. He told us of his time in Paris as a chef and his transition back to his home city to take over his father's hotel, after his father and brother had passed. We received several other "extras" from him through our stay. All the places here covet positive reviews on TripAdvisor from foreigners, so they bent over backwards to help us out.

Since we were without a guide I studied the Google Map of the old city and figured out our destinations. I have to tell you we were both very worried when we learned we would be in the "old city" again. This brings back memories of Delhi, where we also had a hotel in the old city, but did not feel comfortable walking around. As my daughter would say, it was a "shit show," more literally than we felt comfortable. In contrast, Udaipur's old city was relatively clean and we didn't feel like prey on the streets. Sure, shop keepers would try to get you into their store but they were more respectful. But, watch where you walk. In any Indian city, you need to always look down when you walk. You know, animals are everywhere. Cows, camels, donkeys, dogs, monkeys, goats, and pigs - oh my.

On the first day we just walked around and got our bearings to understand where everything was. We visited the Hindu temple nearby. It had hand carvings all around the exterior. We went up the steps and entered into the inner sanctuary to have a peek. It wasn't the most pleasant place, IMHO. The temple we visited in Delhi was much more clean and it had some very inspirational quotes from their scriptures on the their walls - all universal wisdom I could relate to. In the Udaipur temple I took some pictures of the outside to appreciate the handiwork of the carvings, but I'm just not guy who gets into carved idols for obvious reasons (Abraham and all). They kind of creep me out.

We found a nice cafe called "Ozen" and had lunch there. On the first day there was an old lady on the street below who took to screaming and cursing at many people who walked by. She owned a silver jewelry business, but would curse and chase off anybody from a lower caste she didn't like. They guys at Ozen seem to get a kick out of her, but were embarrassed that she ran people off based on the outdated yet still pervasive caste system. There was a lot of verbal sparring back and forth with them. The Ozen host translated the altercation for us and gave us a run down of what was happening.

We did a brief tour of The City Palace on the south side of the old city and then came back to the hotel to load up on food and drinks and soak up the nighttime view of the lake.

The next day we planned to spend mostly at the The City Palace and Crystal gallery. There was an optional boat trip from the Palace shore, but it would have been about $50 for the two of us. We would try to find a cheaper option the next day. We went through the maze of the Palace, following the numbered signs for the audio tour (which we skipped). I can never take in all that historical stuff from tour guides, so we guided ourselves. The signs took us around the maze of the compound where the royal family still lives.  Our tour ended as we found the gardens at the southernmost part of the property and enjoyed the landscaping.

The next day after exploring the other side of the lake via footbridge we found a cheaper boat tour without all the tourist trappings. For only 600 rupees (just over $8 - what a deal), they took us on our own private covered boat around the lake. It was nice to see everything from the waterside in the mid-afternoon light.

Water is such a precious resource here in India. Though the lake was beautiful, it is polluted just like everything else. You can see people on the sides where there are staircases down to the water, washing themselves and their clothes. When you visit India you need to think carefully about water all the time. The tap water is not safe to drink. If the parasites don't put you on the toilet for a few days, the heavy metals will get you. You need to acquire and use bottled water wherever you go. This means you use it for drinking, tea, and brushing your teeth.

Back on land after the boat trip, my wife spotted a silk shirt that reminded her of a James May shirt (the guy from UK Top Gear). She has always had fantasies about me wearing the busy paisley patterns that he's known for. The one on the rack was for a woman but the shop keeper was eager to say they could custom make it to any size. He led us up to another shop around the corner where the garments were made. I got measured and looked at various patterns. Though the guy wanted to sell me many shirts, I finally convinced him I only wanted one. It cost just $27 for a custom tailored, hand made, silk shirt. The next day I picked it up and wore it back to the hotel. Guys on the street were giving me that, "do you think you are John Travolta?" kind of look as I walked by. "Exactly", I thought. Udaipur might be having some weird romantic effect on me after all.

As our pace  slowed down in this lakefront town, I came to an important realization about traveling as a couple. The two of us really looked forward to each evening on the rooftop.  We enjoyed food and drinks, lounging on the couches together. We experienced the joy of just being in each other's presence without external obligations or commitments. Just each other, resting and relaxing with time to spare. Time to watch the sun slowly dip below the mountains. Time to enjoy the bright purple flowers below the bright blue sky in the dead of winter. We soaked up all these moments and cherished them. Some couples don't travel well together. Travel demands constant adjustment, learning and adapting as each new situation presents itself.

After almost 22 years of marriage, I can say that we are quite a dynamic pair. As we have encountered each new place and people along the way, we have leaned on each other to join our minds and spirits into one traveler. We might return back home to our hectic work life, but I know that around the next corner when we journey together again we experience bliss as one.

good brakes, good horn, good luck

[Second Edit, Friday 12-Feb]

I've already talked about our driving experience in Delhi, but since this is they guy's edition of an India travel blog I've got more.

When we got to Agra after a few hours on the train, our newest driver gave us some more sage advice about driving in India. He said the key to driving anywhere in the world is, "good brakes, a good horn, and good luck."  After over two weeks now of riding in the chaotic streets of three cities, I have still not seen any collisions or people get hurt on the roads. People actually seem to look after each other on these hectic streets. A honk of the horn serves more like echolocation. It says, "I'm here". It is fascinating to watch the harmony within the chaos of these streets. At the beginning of the trip I wasn't sure if I should be afraid, or just close my eyes.

The drivers seem to alternate between semi-orderly main roads with traffic lights that people actually heed, and hectic narrow side roads that are filled with people, animals, produce carts, "tuktuk's" (motorized 3-wheel rickshaws), leg powered rickshaws, delivery trucks, and buses. When I think of the Biblical phrase "easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle", I can surely say I've seen that. Ancient streets are extremely narrow, and have not gotten wider as more people and things have wanted to go through them. Each trip down those narrow streets makes me feel like a camel getting threaded through that needle.

Space issues aside, let me expound about what you see on these journeys. Having now been in Delhi (old and new), Agra, and Jaipur, I can say that there are significant differences between regions. When we moved to Jaipur we entered a different state in India called Rajasthan. Jaipur felt significantly different to us. It reminded me most like Haifa in Israel, but without a port. It is very much a modern city that is having a growth spurt. It is a busy place - not fake busy, but real busy. People all around are working at building up the city. I see technology and modern housing. I see more normal streets with functioning traffic lights that people follow. Jaipur is known for its hand made textiles and marble carvings. The people here are proud of their state and look down upon Agra and Delhi.

By contrast, in Delhi and Agra the garbage is everywhere. When people open up a gum wrapper, they throw it on the ground. The garbage just seems to accumulate in spaces and no one takes any pride to pick it up. In Jaipur things are much cleaner. You will encounter heaps of garbage here and there. This is left for the animals in the streets to graze upon. I suspect this heap is scooped into the dumpsters each night after the animals have gone through the food scraps. I believe the attitude of the two regions will define their success or failure. If you take pride in what you do, who you are, and where you live, then life will prosper and people will band together to build a better future. If you are living a life of pure survival and don't derive meaning to your existence, then you are doomed to live in squalor.

In Delhi and Agra, large sections of the city streets present you with shanti towns used by the extreme poor. They are everywhere. People camp out under bridges, by the train tracks, and wherever there is unused space. Jaipur is much different. I haven't really seen the shanti towns here, though they probably exist on the outskirts of the town. I see some people sleeping on the sidewalks, but this is common in any major US city too.

The streets are just filled with everything. Every kind of human, and animal, and contraption. I feel that even after only a few weeks here I have developed filters to cope with it all. I expect to see the unexpected. My wife and I will often seen something truly remarkable from the safety of our car and glance at each other with puzzled looks on our faces. It is a place that defies explanation. Our driver sometimes sees the same remarkable thing and just quips "It's India".

day of extremes

Friday was travel day. We had completed our time in Delhi and it was time to move on to Agra, site of the famous Taj Mahal. In the morning we sat with Bilal, our newly discovered travel coordinator. He had set up a package so we would have a driver to drop us off and pick us up from our rail and train journeys, as well as drive us to various site. Bilal gave us some advice for the train station, which would prove to be our most difficult test yet. He told us that people would approach us outside and try to confuse us and tell us that the train was cancelled and try to take us to hire our own taxi. Yeah, that did happen.

But first, our driver pulled up to our hotel door about 15 minutes late. He wasn't as smooth with his old van as Dinesh had been the past two days. He jerked the van through the crowded Old Delhi streets. These were the streets we were not brave enough this trip to walk through. They were crowded with people, motorcycles, cars, rickshaws, animals, shop fronts, and lots of trash. It was a chaotic mess we weren't ready to traverse.

He dropped us off at the train station 1km away. Sure enough, just as we are approaching the security gate there is a young man kindly trying to help. He seems to know our train number, which is an easy assumption given our arrival time. He points up to the reader board and says the train has been cancelled. He reassures us that he wants no money, just trying to help. The reader board is flashing quickly between Hindi and English, with some confusing information. From a quick glance it seems that our train is only delayed by an hour. The station is a mass of confusion, of people pushing in lines, of predators and prey. We did not want to be prey. I knew this guy was trying to bilk us somehow. I thanked him and told him several times we did not need him.

I wrapped my arm around my wife and we huddled to make a plan. We spent a few moments trying to understand the reader board, but really needed to talk to someone official. We tried talking to some security guards, but they were not interested in helping us. We went over to the service desks. In the first line we stood for several minutes waiting to ask a question, or change our ticket. There was a man standing there and he asked if I was from Sweden. It must have been my pale complexion. "No, I'm from the US", I said. "The greatest and most powerful nation in the world", he replied. I shrugged. People were trying to get in front of us and the man turned kind. He encouraged us to push our way up to the front and not let anybody get in our way. Audrey turned into bear mamma and barked a few people away. It was working. We finally got to the front and the woman pointed me to another line. Window 61 to be exact, the "Inquiries" line. Okay, so we hopped over to that line and fought our way to the front. I started to ask a question, but the woman was counting a wad of money. I patiently waited. When she stopped she looked at our papers and told us the train was merely delayed by about an hour. Okay, that solved, we knew the first guy was a shiester.

We made our way to the main platform, just past the security gates. The security was pretty shoddy. They had a machine to run the luggage through, but no metal detectors. As we were putting our bags on there, people were trying to shove their own bags in ahead of ours. I went through first and started pulling our bags. Audrey started to panic because she didn't see her purse/pack coming through. You know, the one with all the travel documents and passport?  It did come through, but was delayed by the other bags. That was a learning moment. We decided we would stand on both ends of the machine next time to make sure all our bags were in and out and in our control.

We started to calm a bit. The people on the platform were all passengers, and the predators seemed to be only on the outside. We started to absorb the environment and try to understand which car we would be on. We wandered over and stood next to an old, friendly looking, Indian couple. The woman was short, and wore elegant colorful clothes and beautiful makeup. Audrey and I both realized these people looked trustworthy so she leaned over and started asking the woman questions. She immediately turned helpful and looked at our ticket info, explaining how the train boarding process worked. She also consoled us about the shiesters outside. It seems that many Indian people are embarrassed about the way people are preyed upon. She spoke with us for a few minutes and advised we move down a few cars and wait for the seat assignment papers to be posted on each car. We asked her about whether we should buy chains for our luggage, and she explained when and why we would need them.

We walked down to the car we would likely board. A few minutes later she returned to check on us. She said she found a place to purchase a chain and she would help us get it. We walked down with her to a little storefront. I gave her the money and she spoke to the clerk, buying it for us and giving me the change. She was a truly kind soul and seemed to remind me of someone. I later realized that this lady was much like my grandmother. She too was short, punchy, and always taking care of people.

After over an hour of waiting on the platform, the train finally started to come alive, with service people going on and off. Eventually the seating assignments were posted. We went and talked to the conductor who pointed us to the right car. We squeezed ourselves along the narrow isle ways. This was a 2nd class sleeper car. When we arrived at our birth there were some westerners already there. Ahh, familiar faces. We quickly got to know them. The were Londoners, a father and son. As we waited for the train to start, we talked India, travel, and both British and American politics. It was a refreshing and comfortingly familiar interaction. They were assigned only the top bunks, but we offered our side seats to them as we took up on the other side of the isle.

When the train finally started moving and we left the station area, a whole difficult world was revealed to us. What we had seen in Old Delhi was only a mere foretaste of the poverty that lines the railways and outskirts of the city. What we saw were shanti towns, where each "home" was made of whatever scrap material could be found. There were people cooking over open fires, children playing games like "hit the rock with the stick" and hopscotch. People were lounging in makeshift sofas by the rails. Cows and goats and pigs were walking around. Garbage was everywhere. Whole areas of waste plastic and paper, and who knows what else. Flattened cowpies could be seen drying in groups in different places. I saw satellite dishes on many of the huts. We had seen this in Israel too with the Bedouin camps. We saw mile after mile of this extreme poverty which leaves many questions in your mind. This is something I'm still trying to process.

The "Express" train made many stops along the way to pick up extra people. An Indian man came on after awhile and was seated across from us. He seemed fairly wealthy and well educated, but his English was not that good. The train ride was a few hours. We were supposed to arrive at 5pm, but got in around 8pm. The train stopped without warning, and we were told that this was our exit. We scrambled to get our luggage and got off the train. The station was pretty dark. We looked around for some guidance. A trustworthy young man motioned us to the exit. We made our way outside and our driver was waiting with our sign. "Mr. Jason and Audrey" it said. Another savior with a white car.

We got in, buckled up, and made our way down more crazy and chaotic streets. The drive was fairly short. We arrived at "The Grand Imperial" hotel. And it was just that. The service here is quite a few notches above the hotel in Delhi. They put flower wreaths around us when we arrived and got us up to our room. We had been upgraded to a suite. The room was huge, with a sitting room to the side. The ceilings look to be about 12-14ft tall. The outside hallways are a colonnade of arches. Audrey was in heaven. We were both in heaven.

We settled for a few minutes and then went down to dinner. There were many servers and I was a bit uncomfortable being doted upon so much. They seated us and served out our meals on our plates. Then... they said they would have live music. Audrey asked, "when", and he replied, "just wait!"  A few minutes later a sitar and tabla player took their place just in front of our table. The sitar player did all the talking. He was a well spoken and educated man. My wife mentioned that I had both a sitar and tabla and that I was learning, so he shifted over into teacher mode a bit. They played a few ragas and folk music, and it was divine to sit and eat and drink and absorb the music we had grown to love.

It was a surreal end to a surreal day. We experienced the worst of people. We experienced the best of people, those with gentle, kind, caring hearts. We saw the poorest outcasts of society, and were at the end of day basking in the luxury of great space, great food, and great music. I am not sure yet how or why this all came to us on the same day. It's more to process as we explore this place of extremes.

one country, many faiths

Sitting in the B'hai Lotus Temple yesterday, in the echoed silence of the vast space, I realized what makes Delhi such an amazing place. Whether Hindu, Muslem, Budhist, B'hai, or a Jew, it is a place where most coexist peacefully. We live our own lives as we were made, or as we ourselves made, and learn to coexist with each other. Just take a ride through the crazy intersections of Delhi and you will experience the chaotic harmony of all these people living together. The merging and constant honking of the cars seems like an apt metaphor for all these people organically finding harmony together, despite their differences.

And yet, though I have observed many who can coexist peacefully, this place has a sad history with peace makers. On that day we also toured through the residence and memorial of Indira Ghandi. In part, she attempted to carry on the legacy of the country's 20th century founding father, Mahatma Ghandi. He was murdered. Indira was murdered by her own guards. Her son took over his mother's office, and eventually he was assassinated too.

Though I see at a personal level, people can learn to get along and look past differences, at a national level the struggle realizes itself very differently. Power and pride always seem to so win the day, but I am grateful for the kind souls who I have met on this little journey.

no one follows the rules

"In India, no one follows the rules", said our driver for the day. This was the beginning of our first full day in India.

We had been dropped off the previous night at our historic hotel in Old Delhi. Another patient fellow had waited at the airport for several hours as our plane, delayed after an overnight stopover in S. Korea, had finally arrived. He was young and had a sweet, patient and kind soul. He drove us through the dimly lit streets of Delhi, hazy with smoky smog, to our old city destination. The ride was chaotic. Even at night there were cars, and buses, and pedestrians, and rickshaws, and bicycles, and stray dogs coming from every direction. But the calm soul behind the wheel took every movement in stride. He understood how to navigate the chaos of Delhi's streets. Somehow, I just trusted.

With all this chaos, I was still calm. With all the anxiety that I experienced leading up to the trip, we finally came to the point of experiencing everything unexpected, and I was completely calm. Was it my previous experiences traveling in Israel, in Palestine, in Vienna and Ukraine? Yes, maybe. The rest of the world is not as orderly as suburbian Seattle, or Upstate New York. Not by a long shot. There is something about finding calm amidst the chaos. It's liberating. Normally the smallest perturbations of peace in my life set me on waves of anxiety.

Morning came and I walked down several floors to ask about getting a driver for the day. I was waved over to a nice gentleman who was sitting in the lobby. He told me he worked with Booking.com and others to help people tour the city. We spoke for awhile, but jumped quickly into Indian and American politics. It was a fascinating and whirlwind discussion, but I was anxious to arrange for our day's trip. I brought my wife down and we met our driver. For only $30 per day, he would drive us to all the sites we wanted and wait while we soaked in the experiences. I couldn't get a half hour drive from home to the airport for that price.

I'll leave the experiences to another post, but let's address what I observed during the drive. Our driver had a pristine car. He wore an orange sweater the whole day (it got well into the 70's that day). He was clean cut and another kind, patient and caring soul. Like the younger driver the night before, he navigated the chaos with grace and a well timed honk of his horn. The melody of the horn is the music of Delhi's streets. I would imagine we'll encounter this in other cities, but suffice it to say it is the music of the symphony played out on Delhi's transit ways.

The horn can mean many things. It means I'm here, hello?, stop being stupid, I want to fit in that space, I want to turn left while you're turning right, you can't fit in that space, you're too slow because you only have legs for a motor, you're riding between the lanes, etc. It's funny, because in the pacific NW, it is politically incorrect to use the horn. I think by law we are only supposed to use it only in a life or death situation. My wife and I struggle with this because we are ex Upstate New Yorker's. You can take the New Yorker out of NY, but you can't take their horn away. It's hard for us not to honk when the guy at the new green light is looking at his phone for 200 milliseconds and hasn't hit the gas yet. We once were awakened in Jerusalem one morning at 6am by a cacophony of horns and we thought we were home. Anyway, you can understand why the horn thing makes us chuckle.

The first thing our driver for the day said was, "In India, no one follows the rules." When I heard this, I turned inward and philosophical. Back home we have rules and most people follow them. We stay in our lanes and don't run the red lights. The police actually care about the rules and enforce them. In India, there are rules that everyone ignores, but I have observed on this day that there are rules that emerge out of the chaos. After a day of travel, seeing every kind of moving obstacle try to converge on the same point in space, I have to say that Delhi has figured out it's own rules. They are not written down, but they are effective. I did not see any collisions today. No one was injured. We sought out to go to our destination, and a million honks later, we arrived. The traffic is a constantly adjusting organic flow of souls. Despite the traffic rules, they have found their own system to allow for their movement. They ignore some rules, but the body of people self organize and create their own code to move by.

This revelation on the first day still sits with me. In fact, three blog posts later, it has truly inspired me. The reluctant yogi is not too reluctant tonight. Day one of India was a success. Rules or no rules - that is the question. It seems like the answer to that question is Yes.

planning to cross over

Early in the summer of 2015, after a long grueling project where many had put in hundreds of hours of overtime to get a new product out the door, my manager came to me with an important request. They needed a team of 6 engineers to put off their summer vacations to work on finishing some important regulatory work that needed to be cleaned up before the FDA visited us again. They offered to give us generous vacation packages to use at a later date. I was one of the 6, and would lead the group. The prospect of a nice vacation with my wife was attractive enough to agree.

I sent a Skype message to my wife about vacation plans.  "Dream big," I said. We discussed where to go. Italy? That had been our dream for our 20th anniversary, but college expenses made us put that off. India? We had met so many kind and loving souls from India over the years, and her being a Yoga teacher who had experienced Bali made this a strong possibility. Bali? Would I join her in Bali at her next yoga teacher training?

Soon after, her scheduled training in Bali was canceled. This sealed the deal. We decided to make a trip to India. It was a destination that many couldn't understand, but for us it seemed like a long held desire had become fulfilled. Many of our co-workers had been to India on work related trips. They didn't understand why we would want to go there for a vacation. It's a very crazy place. You've seen "Slumdog Millionare," right?

India is a complicated place, full of contradictions. It is the physical intersection of many faiths. Extreme wealth, and extreme poverty. It is an intense place, always full of surprises. My wife and I are not sit-a-the-beach vacation kind of people. We have observed that our life requires important "crossing over" interludes. When we get stale, in a rut, and we see that we are not growing emotionally and spiritually, it's time to stretch ourselves in a new way. Without struggle there is no true growth. India? Sounds like the best place to drop ourselves into.

So, she planned out all the trains, planes, and automobiles. We settled on our first trip being to the northern "Golden Triangle". We spent months getting ready to be gone for three weeks. Then, we waited to cross over.