Monday, December 13, 2010

Central Heating, Cheese, Purring, Good Bedding, and Snow Fresh Air.

For my body memory its 3:33 p.m on Monday afternoon. For my body reality its 5:04 a.m Monday morning. I dozed through an epic bath session, listening to Metro Area and drinking Ephemere Green Apple beer. No harm, I think; what's an innocent nap after a bath at 6 p.m? I get into my delicious bed with a bowl of butterscotch ice cream, eat the two Toblerones I bought in Zurich, the Haribo Gummy bears and the last of my 5 Stars and finish the king size beer.

......Why am I (always) so bloody hungry?......

I wake up from my sugar-coma at 9:30 p.m to my cat purring- so I close my eyes again, this time with a hand caressing the vibrating soft feline. My polka dot sheets, custom made pillows, and my mom's high thread count duvet cover, are all divine- topped with the purring Sid.

So at present, it's not even dawn and I am rearing to go!

What (famished) jet lag?

I came home to a winter wonderland; the white blanket mutes sound and colour alike. Apart from my mother and buddy and nephew (Caribbean mother, Greek/Chec buddy and talkative 3 year old boy), all is pretty silent here. Right now as I write I have a beautiful Andy Warhol print lamp emitting pink light, I have the soft hissing of central heating, I have the purring engine of an insatiable cat, and I have the cocoon of the best duvet on earth. Soft cozy silence, with a hint of purr and pink.

The snow air smells splendid. Pure. Canada smells good.  It could be the disdain of natural (bodily) smells; the sanitation obsession in the western world, but whatever! It is a pleasure to walk into a store and it smelling of what they are selling, and not of dampness or mold or hair or greasy food.

Of Course! Beloved India: I miss the enticing smell of samosas and pakoras bathing in bubbly oil. Of cumin. But how can I miss the diesel polluted air, the urine, the feces, the spitting, the dirt, or the pervasive body odor?

 ( I still love you madly... this I know is true)

My fingers find their way in my meals, much to the displeasure of my mother. I crave green chili pretty seriously. My head bobs a yes or a no; onlookers imitate me and laugh. My bangled wrists announce my comings and goings; I am a loud member of yoga class.

My thighs have already expanded due to the mind-blowing and available cheese I've been consuming. Morning noon and night, my family and friends serve me gooey cheese, crusty baguette, and spicy cured meat. I am warm with Brie and Baguette.  I am warm with the 'I love you auntie Bibi' followed by little arms curling around my neck or legs. I am warm with wool sweaters (thanks Christinki!) and socks. I am warm and wrapped by all the bubbly laughter of jokes familiar, like the blanket I stole from Swiss Air. I am warm by the Bikram yoga that I really really missed! I am warm stepping out from the snow onto wood floors and into central heating. And although I miss hearing Hindi as much I miss sipping street chai, there's a warmth in Understanding and Being Understood.

Warm. I like saying and writing and feeling this word.
warm. warmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.
It's all about the 'M'. Like Mother, Melt, Magnificent, Mind-blowing, Mouth, Mellifluous, Music, Mango.


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