- "Laura's Theme" from "Dr. Zhivago"
- "Strangers in the Night," made popular by Frank Sinatra
- "The Godfather theme"
These and other tunes from an Indian accordionist make dinner in the Raj Pavilion cheerful last night.
By breakfast this morning, pre-work, a couple of tables over from where we sat last night, I am looking out the window at bright-red life-preservers, decorating the far side of the pool. Tears are streaming down my Himalayan astringent-stimulated cheeks.
The croissant-woman does not continue to approach me. I can almost see out of the corner of my eye that I'm scaring her.
I'm not ready for work. I just want to go back to our room and watch "The 4400" with Pat. It's not a program I watch with her when we're at home, but it's amazing how even "Terminator 3" dubbed in Hindi can appeal to me here; they even managed to find a guy that spoke Hindi with an Austrian accent.
I've not yet finished writing my remarks for this morning's meeting, nor printed them, and I've not prepared the chart I need to share with a colleague prior to our afternoon meeting at another site.
"Madam, are you on holiday? You're later than usual," says the maitre d' as I'm trying to gather my yogurt from behind the glass-fronted fridge.
"No. Everything's fine, thanks," I say, my throat catching, and wanting him to disappear. A waiter appears to take my yogurt to the table and another hits the backs of my ankles with the chair as he's trying to help me sit down.
"No more assistance, please!" I want to shout, "Just leave me alone." Instead of shouting, tears come. They are just trying to be lovely to me and I cannot respond in kind.
I'm too bitter about not getting to stay home and watch TV. I'm exhausted, having slept fitfully, beginning at 1 am. I miss Pat's cooking, which doesn't happen while we're still living in the hotel. I miss my mother and sisters, my nephews and niece, my brothers-in-law. I am too tired to have exercised. I can't smile at anyone right now.
I don't think I understand any of this as I'm sobbing silently, my shoulders just barely shaking. I'm trying to enjoy the release of it, but know that I also have to keep slicing the fruit that I'll add to the yogurt, so that my routine proceeds. The tears stop when I spoon the yogurt into my mouth and I'm reluctant to eat. The crying was feeling good, other than wondering if I'm the first westerner they've ever seen cry in public. Oh, well, it's humanizing.
It turned into a good day from there....
