THESE MAGIC MOMENTS

It is probable that any American with a childhood spanning the 90's is likely to envision Michael “Squints” Palledorous locking lips with pool hottie Wendy Peffercorn when they hear the first line of Ben E. King and the Drifters “This Magic Moment” start to play. This scene of the American classic film, The Sandlot, begins with Squints declaring that he “just can’t take this no more!” followed promptly by his death-defying act of bravery, jumping into the deep end when he can’t swim. He does this all to get the chance to come lip-to-lip with his summer crush and local lifeguard, Wendy Peffercorn, as she attempts to resuscitate his life. For one brief moment, one “magic moment,” he gets his wish before he and the sandlot boys are banished from the pool for the rest of the summer because of his fearless stunt.

DIP AND DUMP

For any who may have visited me in Spokane between July 2016 and November 2018 you likely would have seen, or experienced first-hand, the most notable and extraordinary element of my old manor apartment: a 9-spigot shower. Yes, ladies and gents… no less than nine water sources adorned that stone tile-clad shower. Count ‘em: two overhead faucets, one hand-held faucet, and six wall jets. It was beyond extra. As the first tenants after a new remodel, my roommate and I were the first to use that glorious, bright, clean, spacious shower; and the first to lose our minds over which valve on the wall controlled which water source. You could drown in a hot second with the deluge of water that shower could supply; a “human car wash” as someone once put it. I moved from that apartment in late Autumn of 2018 to a very lovely little craftsman style home nearby. The shower is adequate, but by comparison it is very pedestrian, nothing anyone would point out on a tour of the home, unlike the shower I moved from.

THE ROCK GARDEN

 This post is will be mostly images as there is not a lot to say about Chandigarh’s Rock Garden other than it is literally a garden of rocks. In the US, a rock garden is typically a display of various vegetation nestled into the and crannies of interested rock formations. In Chandigarh, a rock garden, The Rock Garden, is an art installation that left me wondering what universe I had entered.

SECTOR CITY

Chandigarh is unique. It is a city as well as a union territory and the capital city of two of the three neighboring states, Punjab and Haryana. It seems to be one of the only cities in India (if not the only city) established by a city planner— the combined effort of a few, to be exact: American planner and architect Albert Meyer, Polish architect Matthew Nowicki, and a Swiss-French architect by the name of Le Corbusier. As a result of their planning, the city is divided up into symmetrical, rectangular sectors which are numbered 1-56. Each sector is divided up into four areas, A-D and market areas are in C and D only leaving A and B for residential. From my understanding, all sectors are required to have a grocery store/market, dispensary (medical clinic), a park, and school among other things. Every sector also has a specialty; for instance, if you need to get your car fixed you would go to Sector 28 or 49. Sector 17 has no residential, retail and hotels only.

PLAYING FAIRY GODMOTHER

“Emily! I need your assistance with something!” Shikha called out as she beckoned me to the PT side of the gym. I have come accustom to hearing this over the past few days, not because I am all that helpful, but because my novel perspective on things is often valued here. My fellow therapists want to know how (fill in the blank with any given therapy strategy) is done in the US, and I am there to oblige. I obediently followed Shikha to her patient’s side expecting to collaborate with her on his therapy. He was lying in supine gazing at the ceiling with a small smirk on his face. He knew what Shikha was up to.

LOSING PIECES OF MY HEART

“I am fine.” The three little words softly slipped from his lips in response to my “How are you today?” To him it was a simple response to a question, but to me his response slammed into my heart with the impact of an eighteen-wheeler at freeway speeds. I had heard those words before. Those same words, spoken with that same accent (“I am pine”) and same meek delivery. Same words, similar context, different person. Same impact. Those words haunted me, and I didn’t realize it until that moment. Before the last syllable hit my ears I could already feel my heart start to shred, a lump rise to my throat, pressure build behind my eyes, and every will within me fighting back the thoughts “No you’re not. You are not ‘pine’.” Because that is not how a therapist is supposed to react to their patient. We are supposed to see their potential and facilitate their ability to see and reach that potential.

TO MARKET, TO MARKET…

**Do not read if you are squeamish… some of the photos are a little rugged. If you are brave, but not interested in the bloody details, do yourself a favor, and skip over the Meat Market section.**

Last night Sunil, Sobha, and their young Shaan took me to the local lake and markets (fish and vegetable). For reference, Sunil is the physical therapist that asked me to visit the rehab facility here in Chandigarh. It was his marriage to Sobha that brought me to India for my previous trip. I met Sunil my first trip to Vellore. He was one of the six souls that embraced me and brought me into their make-shift family when I first arrived in Vellore seven years ago. He is now head of therapy at Chandigarh Spinal Rehab.

INDIA: TAKE FIVE

I can’t help compare my trips to India. It is natural, I think. My first trip to Vellore (second trip to India) I was met at the airport exit by a stranger with my name on a placard. I followed him to his taxi and he took me to my destination where another complete stranger met me and showed me to my accommodations. And then—confused, tired, and VERY alone—I cried (just bein’ honest here). Trips Two and Three to Vellore were different that the first one because there was familiarity with the airport, sights, sounds, and people. Friendly and familiar faces were waiting for me everywhere I went. It was a homecoming of sorts. I was also familiar with the traffic, the crowds, the smells, etc.

I'M BACK

Historically I have written my first blog post of each trip to India in the Dubai airport. I guess for me that is usually where I feel the “blog worthy” ponderings start. This trip has been different. As I wondered the Dubai airport, I thought “I should probably post something to the blog about now,” but I really didn’t have anything to say. It felt very much like business as usual and my musing were well… not really of note.