Beautiful men

It is a truth universally acknowledged that beautiful men do yoga. I have to stop myself from drooling every time I walk into class. There is this one guy who always uses the mat next to me who has gorgeous dreadlocks and a limber body. He's mega good at yoga, and it's fun to watch him. While making my body into a curve by lying on my back, then pushing with my arms and legs, I was staring upside between my arms when another quite attractive man with a beard and a wife-beater, approached me, turned his head upside and asked me if he could borrow my block. I was so in shock from actually talking to this man that I fell over. It was a little embarrassing. Ah, but it's too bad that I'll never really hook up with any of these men. I am definitely not hippie enough for them and they spend too much time during class laughing at my horrible mistakes to notice me.
I think another rule is this. In every Tibetan family they send their most attractive son to the monastery cause holy crap there are some fine monks.
My only conclusion is this: life is miserably unfair.
(The picture above is a picture of men who rudely stopped us on our hike to take pictures with us, they are not beautiful)

Only in India

Only in India do you wake up to dogs fighting monkeys.
Only in India do cars have to dodge cows on the road.

Only in India are horns the most important part of the car.
Only in India a family of four considers a motorcycle a good family vehicle.
Only in India does Air Conditioning mean a ceiling fan.
Only in India do the beggars wear colorful saris.
Only in India are white people the tourist attraction.
Only in India does chaos work.

Dharamsala, aka heaven

Well I've officially died and gone to heaven. We've left Delhi.... but not without our fair share of adventures. We were stranded in this dirty train station CRAMMED with hot sweaty smelly people. I think all the foreigners got the memo about not taking Indian trains, but we didn't, so we sat in this train station for THREE HOURS. As I sat on this box on the side of the tracks, I had to stop myself from counting the number of rats and cockroaches I saw to refrain from throwing up. It really was like a scene from a movie, a horror movie. But alas I was saved. The train arrived and we got on. We had this compartment all to ourselves, with bunkbeds and AC!!!!! Again with the movie thing, except for now I felt like I was in an old classic like North by Northwest. I took a sleeping pill and woke up 10 hours later, it was amazing. Then a drive on one lane roads with two way traffic, some of the road wasn't even completed and it was definitely an adventure. "Adventure" is my word for when something was intense, horrible, and miserable, but I'm trying to be optimistic. Anyways, we finally made it to Dharamsala home to thousands of Tibetans in refuge. It's this city on the very top of this mountain in the foothills of the Himalyas. Sooo pretty and about 30 degrees cooler than Delhi!!! There are Tibetan prayer flags everywhere, and the streets are full of Tibetan monks and tibetan people. It's got this awesome vibe. I seriously could live here the rest of my life!!! We ate lunch at the Dali Lhama's palace/temple where the monks practice cooking and man are they good at cooking pizza!
So my previous post was pretty negative, and I'm blaming the heat, Delhi, and my illness. Delhi was actually a really big learning experience and I'm glad we went there!
Ah, but I've reached paradise, so if I never come home, you'll know where I am!

Taj Mahal

The Taj Mahal, one of the seven wonders of the world, is breathtaking. Pictures really don't do it justice. But the pain and agony that it took to get us there maybe wasn't worth the sight. First off we left our hotel at 6 am, all three of us jammed in the backseat of a small car. We drove for five hours, which flew by because Donna(the girl we met from Colorado) told us her crazy life story. Ah, but our driver dropped us off at the main gate, pointed us in the right direction, then disappeared. We were then attacked by hundreds of people trying to scam us. We pushed by and walked a short distance to the main gates of the Taj, only to find out that it was closed until two. We had three hours of waiting in hot Indian weather. We found a spot in the shade and waited. Ah, then the tourists started coming. Indian tourists came from all directions to take pictures of us. I felt like a celebrity.... it was crazy, I was sweating so much, I have no idea why anyone would want to take a picture of me. Ah, then the more sneaky scamers approached. They told us of shortcuts and other ways of cutting the line. We flat out refused, but one man stuck his kid on us and he followed us for over three hours. It was actually a little bit scary. The gates finally opened and then the line formed. Another hour in the heat... once we finally reached the Taj, I about passed out, the heat was so draining. We finally saw the tomb and well it's no wonder it's one of the seven wonders of the world. I mean, this guy built it all for his dead wife, now that's love. If he knew how much corrurption would surround the gates, I wonder if he would have built it. I'm so sick of shouting "NO THANK YOU" or "NO MONEY'' everytime I walk out on the street. Ah, but we made it to the car and started on our way. I don't really remember most of the ride because I was unconscious, but I do remember when the AC went out with a boom, and then the brakes. We were stranded on the side of the road, right in front of a bar with drunk men, who kept shouting at Donna and me. Why are men so attracted to sweaty gross white girls? I can't even imagine what they would have done if I had make-up on or even an attractive outfit. Ah, it's just the fact that I'm white. There are ads all over the place here for creams that make your skin lighter. How ironic is that? No one seems to be satisfied with their skin color. Oh, make to the story, we were rescued by another car full of tourists who took us down the street a bit to a restaurant, where they treated us like coin machines, trying to squeeze every coin out of us. We made it make to Smyle (I don't know if they don't know how to spell smile, or if they are trying to be cute) hotel safely, but completley exhausted, what a day.
About the only good thing about the trip so far was going to church on Sunday. I'm not sure if it was the airconditioning or the spirit, but man did it feel good inside that church. I don't think I've ever been so happy to see men in white shirts and ties in my life. Going to church definitely restored my faith in humanity. Even in this horrible corrupt city there are people who are honestly trying to be better. Oh, in relief society they even had a centerpiece for the table. There are some things that will never change about the church, despite the culture. And there was a man at church who is working with a non-profit organization here who graduated from East High School a few years back. What an amazingly small world it is.
We switched hotels and it feels like I'm staying at the president's palace. It is so much nicer here. The AC works and it works well. I actualy shivered a few times last night.
oh, but I'm sick. I think, ironically, I got sick from taking the sacrament yesterday. I'm not looking forward to the 12 hour train ride we're about to take. well actually the train is going to leave in 6 hours, so we are trying to waste as much time as we can in this semi-cool internet cafe. Oh well, ANYTHING to get out of Delhi, the armpit of the world. If I got called here on my mission, I would flat out refuse.
I bet you all think I'm crazy for wanting to come here for my senior trip, and even I am questioning my sanity. But I'm hoping that mountainous Dharamsala where all the tibetans live will be worth it. We might even see the Dali Lhama! I'm so excited! Things are looking up and I'm definitely having an adventure!

Delhi: home to sweat and stink

As the creepy Bollywood type Indian music blasts in the background of this small internet cafe, I don't really know how to put India into words. It's somewhere that in order to really understand you need to come here multiple times, well actually I'm not even sure that the people that live here understand India. For starters there hasn't been a single minute where I haven't had a layer of sweat covering my body. The humity combined with the heat creates this never-ending sauna. So everyone is sweaty and smelly, and now imagine thousands upon thousands of people lining the streets trying to sell you stuff or take their picture with you. Oh and take away all traffic rules. And now you're well on your way to understanding Delhi.

ah, it's definitely a different world over here, but it's also an amazing world. Everyone is so friendly, even when they are trying to rip you off. And there is also always something new to see. Today we visited a Hindu temple, India Gate, the president's palace, Ghandi's death place, and the Lotus Temple. Last year I actually did a report on the lotus temple and just the Ba'hai religion in general, so it was indescribably amazing to actually go there.

Here at our hotel we met this girl from Colorando. She came to India by herself and she's only 20! how insane is that? A white girl, 20, here in this crazy city by herself. That takes some nerve. But if anyone could do it, she could. She is super outgoing and interested in everything. I really wish I was that outgoing, brave, and happy.

Legal Weed!

I am such a romantic. As we flew over the Netherlands this morning, I thought about how amazing Europe is. I was proud of the open spaces laws that are in place in order to maintain cities and not make Europe Suburb Land, like the US. I got off the train and smiled as I saw Amsterdam with it's old buildings and cobblestone streets. It made me happy that one place in the world could maintain it's rich history and heritage, while progressing and changing socially. I pictured myself strolling the streets with a book in one hand every night after a day of classes. Ah, but soon after walking around for about 37 seconds, I got a whiff of the smell. The Netherlands is the only country in the world to legalize drugs. The "coffee shops" litter the streets, where you can go up to the counter and ask for a drug menu, and they'll give it to and some paper to roll up your drugs. Everyone here is relaxed and I'll give you one guess why. Then the pretty old buildings... they are pretty from the outside, but we soon learned to not look in the windows because there are sex shops, prostitute lounges, tattoo parlors, and bars EVERYWHERE. Harsh reality ruined my romantic dream.... but hey, while we're here we might as well enjoy it!

My miny paradise destroyed

There is a hiatus in my moving chaos, so I decided to stop and update the good old blog. I’m sitting in my room, my completely empty room. This room was my safe haven, my fortress. The one place where I was safe from the world. Now it is empty, void of its security. The prayer flags and Tibetan quilt that reminded me to fight for what I believe in and that there is a whole world out there for me to explore are stuffed away. My bed, with its wonderful amazing comforter, that shielded me from a potential falling roof and just all the sorrows life threw at me is also MIA. My desk where I sat and worked for hours on end on schoolwork, which I thought, made up my whole life is vacant. My books, oh my beautiful books, were my companion. One of them always had something to say, to warn, to guide, or to comfort me.
That’s all gone now. When I first painted my room purple, I bragged to the whole world, “I have a purple room.” I was 13 and it was the first time in my life I had my own room and could choose a color to paint it. I don’t really know what led me to purple, but I found it and have loved it. Purple furniture and materials seemed to gravitate to my room. Purple was the first sign of my independence.
Gross, my new room is bubblegum pink. It’s very disgusting. I’m trying to decide what color to paint it. All the vibrant colors seem too childish, while all the tan and soft colors are too grown up.
This new house is twice the size of my old one. If you know me then you know how much I hate, ABSOLUTELY loath big houses. I think they are just a way for people to show off their wealth. So my first reaction to this new house was how much I hated the unnecessary size. But my parents explained their reasoning behind a big house and how they were going to use it to save the world, or whatever. Well my little act of rebellion was choosing the smallest bedroom. I actually rather adore it (well besides the color). It’s got this AMAZING view of the mountains and it’s small enough to make me feel less guilty about owning a big house.
The whirlwind of emotions that come along with moving is the only thing keeping me in SLC, my mind has wandered a few days early to India. I leave on Tuesday for over a month. No more moving stress, no more growing up stress, no more loneliness. I’ll be seeing the real world and enjoying some quality time with my dad. I’m so excited, it’s the only thing that gets me up in the morning. I only have to survive one more day!

One week

It’s crazy how one week has gone by and I seem to be leading a different life. Last Saturday I was prancing around town in a little black dress with my hair straightened and my face all made up, being a fun-loving teenage, high school girl enjoying prom. This Saturday, I’m dressed in a big sweatshirt and leggings with my hair pulled up in a lazy pony tail and no make up on at all because I packed that away in boxes today. I’m a little closer to adulthood as I pack away my childhood and just life in general, go grocery shopping by myself and plan adventures around the world. I’m graduated from high school, all signed up for classes in college,going to parties with alcohol (granted it was in my backyard) and living out of boxes and backpacks. Just a little bit crazy, just one week ago I was dancing at the capitol building with no worries. Ah, what I wouldn’t give to be worry-free again. Or at least my only worries would be about if I could carry a 20 pound backpack down a ten mile canyon or what to wear tomorrow. I didn’t realize that there was stress outside of homework, social circles, and impressing a crush. Now all I think about is boxes… boxes and boxes and boxes. It took four HUGE boxes to fit all of my books, one box for my old school work, one box of memories, and one tiny puny little box for my jewelry, makeup, and perfume. I like where my priorities lie, I love books and memories and care little for how I look.
Even though it’s only been a week since senior prom, I feel a little bit older and a little bit wiser…although in reality, I probably haven’t changed at all!

37

One of my biggest fears is that I’m never going to make a difference in the world. I want to see something and fix it, for example world hunger. Or I wanted to save someone’s life by befriending him or her. I have yet to do either. I’ve been reviewing my high school years and wondering, have I even made an impact on anyone? Is anyone grateful that I’m alive? Then I happened to stumble across Jocelyn’s blog. In her description of herself she says, “I’m an ordinary girl, and thanks to Suzanne, my life revolves around the number 37…” I almost started crying once I saw that. That has been my contribution to humanity. I have implanted a love for the magical number 37 in several hearts.
If you don’t already have a love of 37, let me just fill you in. How I first discovered 37, put anything, anything at all, into the microwave. Depending on the size and frozenness of the item, punch in 37 or 1:37 or 2:37 ect, and the item will work out perfectly. I have experimented with this extensively, and it works I swear. Soon 37 will appear EVERYWHERE you go. Whenever you look at a clock, the time will end in 37. You’ll hear it in movies, open to page 37 in books, and see it on license plates. Like Jocelyn said, you’ll life will soon revolve around this number.
Every time someone enters my family, we give them a number. So my grandpa is number 1 and my grandma is number 2, ect. We figured this all out a few years ago, and I was number 36. I paid little attention to this fact. After my obsession with 37 started, we were eating dinner with my cousins. We were again going over the list of numbers trying to add in a few new names, when we realized we had forgotten to count one of my cousins. Once we counted her that pushed me back to number 37. Once they verified this several times, the whole family called me into the dining room (I was upstairs for some reason). They told me the big news of my number switch. I stood there in shock for about 37 seconds, then I fell to the floor and just started crying. I can’t remember ever being happier. So not only do I love this number, but this number defines me. I am the 37!
After high school no one will probably remember what I looked like or anything that I did, but I sincerely hope that whenever they see the number 37, they stop and think, “hey wasn’t 37 that crazy kid from high school’s favorite number?” That will be my legacy