NY to WI to ATL to Madrid to Sevilla!

This is from June 2nd in the evening, but I didnt get to post it:

I left home on May 27^th at 10am and I finally arrived in Sevilla on June 2^nd at 15:50 aka 9:50am NY time. Its been a long journey, but I am finally here (well, we are finally here). Congratulations Mr. and Mrs. Ankur Aggarwal! Or should I say Dr. Amy Aggarwal? Its not everyday that a person doubly changes their name within 3 days of each other. It was a hectic weekend, but the happy couple managed to tie the knot twice, and seemed to have fun doing it. Saturday was the Mehndi, which is a sort of beginning of the wedding celebrations’ celebration. There, our New York family proved just how boring we really can be, and let the Wisconsonians out-dance us. Granted, they won at their own game, and we put up a fairly good fight for our first-try. Watch out though, next time, we got this in the bag. Anywho, Saturday was a nice fun time with no costume changes (except for Bria, who definitely out-danced any kind of act that hit the stage that night).

Saturday night, we got home fairly late, and had to get everything ready for the day ahead. After 4 hours of sleep, I got up to shower and get my hair done. Makeup came after breakfast, which was provided by the Hyatt Regency Hotel at the mysterious Polaris restaurant. We were ready to go by around 8:20 in the morning, when we had to begin to dress the bride. Oh what a show that was! There was a skirt, that weighed at least five pounds, a top that was at least three and a dupatta (shawl with lots of work, from what I have experienced) that probably weighed somewhere in the 10 pound range. The dupatta had to go on her head and be wrapped precariously, but securely, around her shoulders and back. With all the jewelry and the too-high heels, I am not entirely sure how my sister made It from point A to points B,C,D, etc. Regardless, she did so with grace and elegance, from what I could tell, and she got married into the Aggarwal family around a small indoor fire, led by her new husband.

There is this odd Hindu tradition where the bride’s sisters steal the groom’s shoes when he is on the alter, getting married. Don’t ask me why this happens, but apparently it’s a big thing. Did I mention that when the sisters get the shoes, they get to hold them hostage until the two families negotiate a price to buy back the stolen shoes? That’s the whole point, I suppose, to make some money and have some fun. Well, all the sisters that were in cahoots to steal the shoes (aka me, Tiffany and Bria) were entering the ceremony way after the groom (aka Ankur), so the groom’s family (aka Anshu and Preety) had already hidden the shoes before we even got there, making it impossible to steal the shoes. Jimmy attempted a steal, but of the wrong shoes. So, at the end, Preety gave up a shoe so we wouldn’t feel bad for being unsuccessful (not that we did feel bad, but it was a nice gesture). Anshu took the shoe back while handing me a rolled up bill, so there was no negotiating, but I was not unhappy about the outcome.

After a short break for lunch, we headed up to our room and changed for the catholic ceremony, and hopped in a limo and went to the church. There, we dressed Chechi in her white gown and veil and waited for everyone to arrive. The catholic ceremony was like any other, except in this one, I knew the bride and groom pretty well. As I walked down the aisle, my mind was pretty blank; I was just trying to put one foot in front of the other while holding onto the arm of an extremely tall man. When I saw Chechi come down the aisle, tears rolled down my face (not for the first time that day), but I stifled any continued crying. Then, when Ankur was giving his vows, Tiffany and I were pretty much have wet cheeks and red eyes, followed by runny noses (which is really embarrassing when you are the maids of honor and people are actually watching you). At the end though, the tears were done, and I was pretty sure I wouldn’t cry again that day.

After pictures, we went to the hotel for a cocktail hour followed by the reception. I was successful in not crying at all during the cocktail, and was really in a sprightly mood. After Tiffany and I changed into our lenghas during dinner, we tried to practice our maids of honor speech, but I could not get through it without breaking down. I knew the exact part where I choked up, and honestly, it was the perfect place to choke up. Well, if you can tell me you have cried in front of more than 375 people, then I don’t feel so ridiculous about this next part. As soon as I started speaking, I looked up at Chechi (big mistake). I then thought about how happy I was, mixed with how thankful I was for her and also how sad I was that the three sisters really wouldn’t be the same anymore. The waterworks were just an added bonus to this slew of emotions. I croaked out my sentences and let Tiffany speak. Let me tell you, that thirteen year old can publicly speak better than I ever have been able to, or probably will be able to. Apparently, there wasn’t a dry eye in the room (at least the women’s eyes anyway) and that was perfectly fine with me. I could have done without the humiliating blubbering though.

I made up for it with my sprightly “dancing” skills, which I unabashedly broke out. What was the point of being the maid of honor if you couldn’t have a kickass time “dancing” your butt off to hindi songs you had no rhythm for? The wedding ended too soon, in my opinion. I was ready for some mad after-partying, but I don’t think anyone around me was up for it. It was probably a good idea anyway, since we had to be up for breakfast by 7 (which turned out to be 8 goddamnit).

The next morning, after yummy Polaris food again, and quick packing, the Chechi and I left the parents at the hotel and went to Ankur’s house. We hung out at the house, where I ate some peanutty food and had to take 1.5 benadryl, 1 claritin, rub a billion pounds of high strength cortisone all over myself and then take some prescription high-strength antihistimine which I don’t remember the name of. It was a bit insane, and not good considering I was already lacking sleep. We all took naps as a result of sleep depravity and peanut consumption, then we went to dinner at a famous ice cream/ burger shop as my last supper before Spain. Then, we went to see Sex and the City 2, which was one of two movies that I have ever had the desire to walk out of after sitting through the first 15 minutes. Note that the other movie that made me feel that way was Ghosts of Girlfriends’ Past, so SATC2 must have really sucked major gooseberries.

The next morning, after getting all washed up and such, Chechi and Ankur dropped me off at the airport before leaving for their drive home with pitstops in Michigan. It was the first time that I flew alone, so I was a bit scared. Luckily, airports are some of the best labeled buildings I have ever been in, so I didn’t have to stop to decide what way to turn even once. The flight to Atlanta was departing from gate 69, so I knew it would be a good one. For those of you who don’t know why that is, I will graciously let you in on the secret. I randomly picked a 6 of some suit from a deck of cards and tacked it to my wall in the spring of sophomore year. Then, I found a 9 of another suit on the floor somewhere and tacked it with the 6 of blanks. I figured something important, or good, or significant in some way would occur and the number 69 would be involved. So here I was waiting at gate 69, waiting for the flight that would start the journey that I was getting nervous to take. It meant something, that’s for sure, and whether it was superstition, or a higher power, or just coincidence, I began to relax, and was not at all worried about the trip anymore!

I sat in seat 19B with seat 19A occupied by a fairly good-looking buffish fellow who couldn’t have been more than 25. I thought I hit the jackpot with a decent plane buddy until he pulled out his maxim magazine and it was clear that he had not bought it for the intellectual articles. In Atlanta, I found Whitney and we boarded the plane together. I sat in seat 36E with a large man in seat 36D. After boarding finished, it was clear that he was taking up both 36C and 36D. I figured since he was large enough to need both seats that he would at least move a bit away from me, since there was an almost empty seat on his other side, while we were sharing his right arm rest. He did not think this was a good idea, apparently, until 6 hours into the flight. That’s after the hour or so we sat on the runway waiting for a storm to pass before taking off. The delay, along with some not so great weather, made our arrival jump from 9:35am to 10:40am. Oh well, I thought, there was no schedule we were really keeping.

After a fairly flawless trip and maneuvering through two airports, we were finally in a cab heading to the Atocha train station where we were going to take a train to Sevilla. The train station was easy enough to navigate as well, and we had plenty of time to drink a caffe latte before boarding for our two and a half hour trip. At the end of another long time of sitting in a seat, we got to Sevilla train station, where we took a cab and gave the cabby our housemother’s address. He tried to make conversation, but we couldn’t really understand his strong castillian accent and fast speech. He tried to point out some landmarks, like the Park of Maria Something (I think it was Maria). He also showed us some stores and such. It was very nice of him. He took us to our building and took out our luggage before darting off to pick up his next passenger. We approached the gated building and pressed the button for the apartment where we were to stay. Sadly, no one answered our call. For the next ten minutes, and 5 more rings later, our housemother finally answered and buzzed us in. We walked in the building, dragging our suitcases, and realized the apartment was on the 5^th floor. Hoping to God there was an elevator at the top, we climbed the half-set of stairs, literally dragging our suitcases with us. Thank god, there was the tiniest elevator I had ever seen at the top. It was probably 4 foot by 4 foot, and barely fit the two of us and our luggage. Still, it got us to the 5^th floor and we found our home for the next month.

Our housemother, Maria, is really nice and sweet. She has two children and a few grandchildren. She also likes to paint and takes a painting class in the evenings. Currently, she is gone, doing that, and whatever else she does with her spare time. Her apartment is cute, with lots of artwork hanging from the walls, so I will definitely have a new piece to catch my eye every day of my stay here.

Our other roommate, Melissa, is also really nice. She has answered all of our questions with no hesitation and been very welcoming to us. She invited us to go out with some of the other students in our classes tonight to a festival sort of thing at the park, but Whitney and I decided with out jetlag and non-showeredness, we should probably stay in and unpack and get situated. So that’s what we did, we got washed and settled and are ready for our first day (everyone else’s 4^th day) of classes tomorrow. Cant wait to meet all the other people in the program (apparently there at about 25). I just hope we can edge ourselves into the already formulated groups after arriving a bit late.

This is a looong post, and if you kept going until the end, I commend you. Thanks for paying so much attention to my trip happenings, but maybe you should find something better to do with your lives ;)