valentine Pronunciation [val-uh n-tahyn] Use valentine in a Sentence–noun A written or other artistic work, message, token, etc., expressing affection for something or someone.

Dear Autumn,

Ah yes, it’s autumn yet again and that pumpkin-shaped hole in my heart has been filled.  That’s right, the leaves are changing, the air is cooler, drunk people in burnt-orange shirts are wandering around Uptown Dallas on Saturday afternoons and Starbucks has their pumpkin-flavoring out.  I LOVE this glorious time of year, and I want to sing these affections from my balcony.

For the last 3 falls, I’ve had the pleasure of experiencing autumn in 3 very different states: Iowa, Rhode Island and Dallas.  Each one has offered up something delightful in this already wonderful time of year, and I’m going to share my favorites from each with you:

• Hawkeye football tailgating: Iowa City, IA has some of the best tailgating the BIG 10 conference has to offer.  Hawkeye fans show up in droves around Kinnick Stadium at painfully early hours to begin their autumnal Saturday ritual.  There’s cold beer (usually the cheapest brand one can find), drinking games and tiny grills/BBQs in a sea of black and gold.  Although the ritual usually turns into a drunken mess, it’s a great fall tradition that I miss dearly…right, there’s a football game too…

Me at an Iowa tailgate during my final year of college

• Fall colors: Rhode Island and the whole of New England have a plethora of trees.  When fall hits and the leaves begin to change colors, you are in for one of nature’s loveliest treats.  The spectrum of colors in a vast sea of trees is a feast for the eyes and is worthy of a long drive through New England.  I thought coming from the Midwest meant I’d seen leaves change, but it does not compare to the fall colors in New England.  Book a fall trip to RI or Mass and enjoy—trust me.

Fall Colors

• Reprieve from the Texas heat: This past summer was my first Texan summer, and the legends of brutal heat were true.  From June until just recently, I found outdoors to be intolerable unless I was in an overly air conditioned apartment or lounging by a pool.  That is why I’ve loved the suddenly cooler fall air outside.  I’ve brought my sweaters to the front of the closet again and turned off the expensive AC.  The past few weekends have been fantastic weather for walking around Dallas, checking out the scene in the arts district and sitting on a patio at an Uptown Dallas pub (favorites: Ginger Man, Quarter Bar and Black Friar).  This fall weather is a much-needed reprieve from the brutal Texan summers!!

Until next year,

Trina

During my junior year of college I was lucky enough to go abroad and study at the Universidad de Granada in Granada, Spain.  The opportunity was one that I knew I would never get again.  The price was right, the curriculum was right and the scholarships were available.  I hoped on a plane, lived with a host family and did a summer semester abroad.  This was truly an amazing opportunity for me and opened a kid from the Midwest’s eyes just a little bit more.  I had a few fellow friends who also studied abroad in the UK, Czech Republic, Italy and Spain so upon our returns after our respective semesters we all had a little bond we could share. 

 During my time in Spain, I was immersed in culture, language, new public transportation systems, and massive backpacks while still living on the college student budget.  I learned a lot about myself, the world and other people during my semester.  I returned to the States hoping I could one day have another global experience.  [Side note:  I have some goals in my closet that I look at every morning; Teach Someone to Read, Live Abroad Again, Visit all Major Continents, Run with the Bulls, Endow a Scholarship at Kansas State (my alma mater),  Obtain an MBA or JD and Work Abroad.]   As I returned to home to the US, I started back to the ways of the typical US citizen- very little global awareness, inability to name foreign leaders, and sole focus on the economy of America.  This is partially my fault but also it is how America and “media America” tends to operate.  We live in a giant US bubble with 2 neighbors that really do not affect us unless you love Montreal (like me) and socialist healthcare or if you are involved with the drug/gun cartel or like to vacation in Puerto Vallarta. 

About the 2^nd week in August, my old manager who is currently a Sr VP of our division called me on my mobile asking me to swing by his office.  As I got off the phone with him I was going thru other e-mails from the morning on my blackberry and saw an e-mail from roughly our divisional CFO asking me to swing by his office as well.  From this e-mail and phone call I knew something was up because why would they both want to talk on a Monday morning?  I quickly dropped in and was presented with the idea of going to China.  When I first heard this I was a little in shock and imagined it was for a few weeks or the like.  But when I asked “For a week or 2?” they quickly replied, “Nope.  Just go there and make some stuff happen.  When you want to come home we’ll get you back but we’d like at least a year.”  I was in shock…and kind of giddy.   But China?  This was something new…and not Western… wow, non Western is kind of a big deal… 

Being in my 20s with no family, but some awesome friends, this was the ideal time to pack up and head west.   My friends have been amazing during this process, while certain family members have other thoughts.  But I look at this as a once in a lifetime opportunity.  China is the last frontier we will see develop.  To be on the ground floor of this amazing growth and explosion of a country is quite unreal.     

So here I am.  I will leave it at that for now and hopefully post again on Trina’s blog as my experiences continue to grow and take place in China with work, people, and my overall thoughts and opinions of China.  In the meantime, find me here.

A Shanghai Photo

Another Photo of Shanghai

My First Indian Wedding-Me with the Couple

There are a few certainties in the summer months: BBQs, blockbuster movies, tan lines, humidity and, of course, weddings.  My earlier Iowan summers were filled with family cookouts at Lake Okoboji, endless days at the city pool achieving horrid tan lines, sticky nights up to no good in tall cornfields and the traditional exchange of nuptials between two Christian Midwesterners.  This summer I’ve managed to take in all the aforementioned certainties in the form of hot dogs, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, wicked Texas-induced tan lines, makeup-melting sweats (myth buster: Dallas has humidity!) and two of the most wonderfully unique weddings I’ve ever attended.

Two August 2009 weekend road trips brought me to steamy Houston, TX for an Americanized Nigerian wedding and a traditional Indian wedding.  I had no idea what to expect other than cake and some shameless dancing where others look on in horror.  I went in with an open mind, and each one presented me with a different perspective on weddings, love, traditions and the union of two people ready to officially start their lives together.

WEDDING #2:

Another weekend and another trip to the suburbs of Houston (quite a bit like the suburbs of Dallas really), and I was thrilled about attending my first Indian wedding.  I’d heard legends about how fun and how beautiful Indian weddings are, and I’d seen Slumdog Millionaire—therefore, I must be an expert on Indian culture (that’s a joke).  I met the bride earlier this year as she was new to the company and I was to be mentoring her during her first 30 days.  It was love at first sight, and we have been close friends ever since.  She was engaged when she started with the company, and I’d been anticipating this happy wedding for months.

Roommate Lindsay, my faithful co-pilot, and I headed to the temple mid-morning on Saturday.  We weren’t sure where we were going and somehow wandered around the side of the temple.  In between two buildings were lovely gardens where a drummer was bringing rhythm to celebratory dancing and the groom was hoisted onto the shoulders of friends and family.  You could see the groom’s smile from our far off vantage point, and it nearly melted my heart.  Like the prior weekend I found myself in awe of the clothes.  The colors, the draped fabric, the jewels, the beautiful people, etc all took my breath away and felt so wonderfully foreign.

Party in the Temple Gardens-Groom Hoisted Up

Lindsay and I decided that we should probably be inside the temple, and we managed to find a side door leading into the room where the ceremony was to be held (a banquet hall with tables facing a stage).  The first person I saw was my lovely friend, the bride, in traditional Indian wedding clothes, and I had to fight back tears.  She was more beautiful than any Bollywood movie star or person I’d ever seen.  It’s an odd thing to see one of your friends in their traditional ethnic clothes…this is such a huge part of who she is, and I’d never seen her in this way.  I must say that a sari is far lovelier than a power suit any day!

The Beautiful Bride

Lindsay and I found our other Dallas friends and reserved a table with a VIP view of the stage where the ceremony was to be held.  We headed out from the banquet room to the lobby area where the groom, drummer and party had migrated from the gardens to the temple doors.  I could now clearly see he was wearing a turban-like hat on his head (again, surprising to see him in traditional clothes) and that melt-your-heart smile.  Like the bride, he looked like a movie star.  The crowd in the foyer parted, and the bride was led by her sisters out to the groom.  They were both hoisted in the air and placed garlands of roses around each others’ necks.  After being gently placed back on the ground, they headed inside separately for the ceremony to begin.

Back in the banquet room, the bride’s parents were sitting in two chairs facing the audience on the stage.  After a procession, they were joined by the groom who sat down in a chair to the side of the bride’s father.  After welcoming him, the bride’s sisters placed a tapestry in front of the groom to prevent him from seeing the bride until she was sitting across from him.  The bride’s friends walked down the aisle holding candles and filed to the sides of the aisle waiting for the bride to pass by.  My friend was breathtaking as she walked down the aisle and up onto the stage with her aunt and uncle.  She took the seat across from her soon-to-be husband, and the ceremony continued in Gujarati and Sanskrit.

The Bride Approaches the Groom

From this point on, the room was full of chatter and movement (very different than most American weddings).  I wasn’t too sure about what was happening on the stage, but I was enchanted by it.  Suddenly (or so it seemed to me since I didn’t know what was happening) the bride and groom stood up and they placed garlands around each other’s necks as they had done earlier.  There was a flurry of activity and the photographers began to snap tons of photos.  After a few more rituals—one of which a varamala (rope) was placed around them, husband and wife took the seats where the bride’s parents were originally sitting.  I assumed at this point that they were married which was later confirmed to be true.  From this time until we left, waves of people were coming up to the stage for photos with the couple.

The Happy Couple!

As I beamed at the couple onstage, I was beginning to feel the effects of the Indian wedding ceremony: desire to wear a sari, be Indian, spontaneously start dancing with the music and understand Hindi.  Lindsay and I know one of the bridesmaids, and she assisted with filling us in on what was happening throughout the afternoon.  We were most thankful to her!

People had been eating for some time (hence the chatter and movement), and I decided to get in the buffet line.  I watched the Indian people in line around me and copied them.  The food was Indian (of course), vegetarian, spicy and wonderful.  I didn’t recognize very much of it, but I tried it all and enjoyed it!

Wedding Food

My mind was in a whirl after all of this (exactly like the prior weekend), and the day was only half over!  I couldn’t even imagine what to expect for the evening reception.  Lindsay and I found our way to the hotel and then later to the room where the bride was getting ready.  Up close I was able to notice the amazing intricacy and detail of the henna on her hands, forearms and feet.  I’ve tried to draw it on my hands before, but it never looked quite like this… I was informed that everyone was going to be changing outfits for the reception which made me as happy as my mother in an antique store.  The wardrobe change meant that I was going to be ogling at all new saris for the night!!

As the reception kicked off, it wasn’t only the clothes that enraptured me but the whole event.  There were entertaining MCs running the show, fantastic Indian music, family introductions, several choreographed dances and an adorable skit about the bride and groom put on by their close friends.  It was all bright, fun and joyous.  Eventually it was time for the dance party, and I was dreading it after seeing all the other talented dancers throughout the night.  I was pulled onto the dance floor, informed of a few simple ways to dance somewhat like an Indian person would (lift your arms, screw in the light bulb and move your hips) and wound up having one hell of a great night.

The Happy Couple Watching the Skits

Besides the clothes, a few things really struck me about my first (and hopefully not last—Jilan, Pranav???) Indian wedding:

• There were a lot of customs and rituals that were completely foreign to me.  I felt really honored to be a part of such a traditional Indian event.  I was humbled at how respectful the ceremony was to Indian culture.
• It was a huge crowd – it seemed like people had come in from all over for the big day.
• The close and extended family were recognized and paid respect throughout the weekend.
• Colors, everywhere.  It was not just white with a hint of Tiffany’s blue.  No, it was reds and oranges and pinks and blues and lilacs, etc, etc.  I LOVED IT.
• The bride and groom had a natural glow of happiness, but they were also sparkling with jewels and sequins on their clothes.  In addition, the ceremonial area was filled with sparkles.  I LOVED IT.
• Music was an integral part of the event.  Between the drummer and the Indian music playing overhead, I couldn’t help but keep the beat with my hands.
• Dancing was inevitable: we saw dancing when we first walked up to the temple and we ended the night with dancing which I really got into.  It was the beat in that music…

The approximately fourth-generation German-American-Iowan girl (hence the last name ending with –DORF) went to Houston and attended a Nigerian-American and an Indian wedding.  The German-ness is mostly non-apparent in our customs back home.  I love that my friends who got married this August still have such close connections to their home countries and their customs.  Those rituals all had special meaning about the act of marriage making for two weddings that were very different but equally spectacular to me.

If I decide to ditch the elopement idea, I’ll have Nigerian headdresses, saris, Indian music, Nigerian music, Indian dancing, Indian food, the Nigerian custom of throwing money on the couple, that slightly-coconuty cake from the first wedding…

The Couple's First Dance

American-Nigerian Wedding Reception

There are a few certainties in the summer months: BBQs, blockbuster movies, tan lines, humidity and, of course, weddings.  My earlier Iowan summers were filled with family cookouts at Lake Okoboji, endless days at the city pool achieving horrid tan lines, sticky nights up to no good in tall cornfields and the traditional exchange of nuptials between two Christian Midwesterners.  This summer I’ve managed to take in all the aforementioned certainties in the form of hot dogs, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, wicked Texas-induced tan lines, makeup-melting sweats (myth buster: Dallas has humidity!) and two of the most wonderfully unique weddings I’ve ever attended.

Two August 2009 weekend road trips brought me to steamy Houston, TX for an Americanized Nigerian wedding and a traditional Indian wedding.  I had no idea what to expect other than cake and some shameless dancing where others look on in horror.  I went in with an open mind, and each one presented me with a different perspective on weddings, love, traditions and the union of two people ready to officially start their lives together.

WEDDING #1:

The lovely pair who wed in the Americanized Nigerian wedding are first-generation Nigerians who both work for the same company as me.  I met the couple in Rhode Island and quickly connected with them one night out for coffee on Wickenden Street.  I haven’t had the pleasure of knowing many continental Africans and hearing about their strong Nigerian roots was fascinating to me.  I followed the couple from the Ocean State to the Lone Star State and was elated to celebrate their American wedding with them (their traditional Nigerian wedding was held earlier in the year).

Besides heavy humidity, I wasn’t sure what to expect when my roommate Lindsay and I pulled up to the Catholic Church in the suburbs of Houston.  When I first noticed the traditional Nigerian dresses, hats, headdresses, etc I remember being in awe due to the sheer beauty of the attire.  The headdresses alone were stunning and so wonderfully unlike anything I’d ever seen on a person’s head.  The bride and groom wore traditional westernized wedding garb and looked elated on their big day.  I was so consumed by all the beautiful people around me that I planned to spend the majority of the ceremony analyzing the clothes in the sanctuary.

Women in Traditional Nigerian Clothes at the Reception

I was brought back to the rest of the world by the engaging priest who had a thick yet easily understandable Nigerian accent.  Normally sermons lose me when they talk about scripture, evangelizing, evolution or the need to have God in our lives; however, this priest focused his sermon on life and had my full attention the entire time.  He spoke about his pride in watching the next generation of Nigerians live and make decisions not based on a world of distress but based on their own accord.  The act of engagement and marriage is a point where young Nigerians can fully pour themselves into each other and truly become adults.  His message was one of the best I’ve ever heard at a wedding, and the mentions of the couple needing to have children were delivered more as witty hints rather than a main point.

Lindsay and I headed to the reception, and I was deep in thought about the priest’s message (when I say “deep in thought”, I mean appearing dazed to the rest of the world).  It was in this deep/dazed state that I listened to the breaking of the kola nut ceremony delivered in Igbo by a high-ranking elder in the audience.  Lesson Learned: don’t throw a giant chunk of kola nut in your mouth–eat only a tiny bit of the kola nut at a time because it’s surprisingly bitter and awkward to spit out in front of the Nigerians watching the table of white kids from Dallas.  The food was similarly themed to the rest of the event: a mixture of traditional Nigerian and classic westernized.  The traditional Nigerian food was spicy and delicious, and the cake was amazing (I’m still dreaming of that cake).

Bringing Out the Kola Nuts

Kola Nut Ceremony: Elder Speaking to the Family of the Couple

The rest of the night was filled with traditional music and dancing by different groups in the room.  Money was thrown over the couple to bless them, and they were very blessed by the end of the night!  Of course, some hip hop music was played at the end of the night for the young Americans (the couple are both amazing dancers!).

I was swept away by the Nigerian clothes, music and hospitable crowd willing to share some of their traditions.  Marriage is an important event to Nigerians who celebrate with passionate happiness and hope for the bride and groom.  The blend of Nigerian and American customs was classy, unique and made for one of loveliest weekends in this young former Iowan’s life.

I’ll be posting the second half of this article about the Indian wedding I attended later this week.