val-en-tine Pronunciation [val-uh n-tahyn] –noun

Dear Irish Boyfriend,

I think you are as wonderful as a cool pint of Guinness on a Saturday afternoon, and I want to sing my praises for all of your help in my Trina Left Iowa adventure.  This blog would not be possible without you.  No, seriously it really wouldn’t!

My technology/internet skillz (that’s right, skills with a z) may impress some, but they are nothing compared to yours.  You helped me to commit to a blog name that fateful Sunday (I have some commitment issues…) and patiently walked me through the process of buying a domain name, hosting package, etc.  You explained Wordpress themes to me which again took immense patience.  Once everything was set up, you created logo images, worked with the layout and catered to my diva-like requests.  You took a lot of your free time to tinker with color schemes and fix things I’d broken.  Yet, the whole time we were working on the site you gave me final say and made me feel like it was my own.

Besides the techie pieces, you played a huge role in emotionally supporting me to begin this adventure.  We were team bloggers on Leading Associates which was how I got a taste for blogging and writing freely.  I’d never known that I had writing in me, and you encouraged me to develop this “talent” I had suddenly unearthed.  You telling me that I should create my own blog was the catalyst to this endeavor.  You were the one who made me realize that people may actually read and enjoy what I write. 

Lastly, you inspire me to believe in myself by constantly reminding me to have confidence in my abilities.  Putting your thoughts out there is scary, and it takes a lot of strength to endure extensive criticism on the internet.  Because of you, I’m positive I can handle this adventure whatever direction it goes…

Thank you,

Trina

PS.  It’s always nice to have the luck of the Irish with you (OK—you knew I had to say something slightly racist).

Irish Elixir

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.

Right now I am in this fabulous life stage: I’m educated, single, emancipated from my parents, employed, full of life, cute (I have to give myself some credit), and blessed with a derriere that rivals JLO and Kim Kardashian (I’m learning to embrace rather than hate it).  This is the time when I am supposed to be dating these great guys and going out for cosmopolitans with my fabulous girlfriends.  Instead, I find myself going through the same routines and doing unglamorous things like drinking wine alone and watching the BBC Pride and Prejudice miniseries (I nearly tackled the delivery guy when it arrived from Amazon).  Where do the cute boys and dates come in?

People always say that “he” comes along when you aren’t expecting it which is exactly how both of my two serious loves happened.  At this time, I’m not even looking for Mr. Right; I just want to have fun, flirt a little and date interesting boys.  In college, this was all so easy: get gorgeous with girlfriends, drink a bit, go to the bar, drink a bit more, meet that cute guy from Organic Chemistry II (that’s a joke by the way) and flirt all night.

For over a year now I have been doing my usual “thing” and haven’t met anyone that has really caught me.  I go to the gym, work, get groceries, meet friends for drinks and dinner, etc yet nothing has happened.  Looking for men at bars has never led to GOOD dates for me.  I started to wonder if I was too boring and thought maybe I needed to try another avenue to meet the men folk. 

That’s when the marketing geniuses at Match.com sucked me into their world of “It’s ok to look”.  I had been curious about online dating for a long time and wanted to know how it all worked.  One Tuesday night after a glass of wine, I typed match.com into the browser and hit enter.  I searched for males in Plano, TX from ages 23-30, and a lot of interesting profiles appeared.  I created my own profile, wrote in some of my interests, added 3 of my most flattering photos, wrote a little about what I was looking for and submitted it for approval (content and photos have to get approved by match.com). 

Just as the ads promise, you can look and wink (equivalent to a facebook poke) at others all you want, but that’s about it.  In order to read/send emails, see who has viewed your profile or IM online users, you need to shell out some cash.  I had received several winks, emails and IMs, and the curiosity was killing me.  It was at this point that I decided to give this a try for one month.  In addition to the previously mentioned privileges, match.com starts sending you 5 daily matches which is a nice little treat in your inbox.

The main attraction I had to the entire process was being able to select who you communicate with based on criteria that are important to me.  For example, I am not religious, and I was able to select guys that shared my lack of beliefs.  Therefore, I prevented myself from going on dates with a big deal-breaker for both parties.   

I emailed and IM’d with a few different guys that looked great on paper to me and went on dates with 2 of them (both happened to be engineers…maybe I have a thing for them).  Guy 1 and I chatted on match.com (it’s a crap chat client) twice and started emailing back and forth for a week.  After seeing that we had a great deal in common, he asked me to meet him at an Italian restaurant.  I was a slight train wreck, because this was the first time I had done anything like this.  I changed outfits too many times to count.  I fretted about being too sexy or too closed off.  Finally, I got myself together and went.   He was nice, smart, quiet, sweet and laughed at my jokes (usually a winner for me).  However, there was something that I just couldn’t put my finger on and declined the second date offer.  I later realized that he didn’t make ME laugh much at all, and there just wasn’t a spark.

Guy 2 and I emailed twice then talked on the phone.  He cut right to the chase and asked to meet me at a café near work.  I was much less nervous and equated this to me being in my suit from work (a comfort zone: flattering, classy and screams powerful woman).  Again, he was nice, smart, quiet, sweet, laughed at my jokes (obviously), but he didn’t make me laugh much and there just wasn’t that instant spark.  Although I had reservations, I accepted the second date because I thought I would give him another chance.  The dinner went alright (about the same as the first time), and then we saw a movie.  During the movie, I kept thinking he was nice but I just didn’t feel “it”.  Perhaps by accepting the second date I confused him, because he tried to kiss me at the end of it.  Leaving nothing left to be confused, I muttered something about “being nervous and not having dated much” and promptly drove home (just imagine stuttering, fumbling for my keys…horribly awkward).  He received that message very clearly as he did not try to call again.  Nice guy just not for me…

I did a lot of deep thinking on the subject and realized I was looking for a spark/connection/chemistry that just can’t be identified on a profile.  If I had put more effort into match.com, I’m sure my dates would have been better.  I truly feel that online dating is entirely what you make of it, and I could have tried harder to find a non-religious, tall, educated comedian in the Dallas-Fort Worth area.

Pros: I went on 3 dates, satisfied my curiosity, experienced a whole new approach to dating and now understand why this is such an effective method.

Cons: I can’t pinpoint who I will spark with based of a few details, and it requires a lot of work to find that special someone on match.com.

My recommendation is to give it a shot if you are curious.  Remember, it’s ok to look…just screen for the creep-o’s and always MEET them at places.  Also, try out the other dating sites as their approach may be more effective or less work for you. 

As for me, I am going to continue my usual routine of flirting with the cheese guy at Whole Foods (best goat cheese in the metroplex) and coyly waving at the gym guy for now…

I have always and will always love stories of sweeping, epic romance.  As a child I was captivated by such stories mainly in the form of movies (from the Little Mermaid to the Thorn Birds).  The over-arching theme was always attractive couples with a spark that never died.  I dedicate a good portion of my free time to examining that everlasting spark by watching romantic comedies and fantasizing about romances.  In fact, last Saturday night was an intensive night of research in the form of watching Bridget Jones’s Diary and Notting Hill (a dual-themed night: rom coms and London…pretty wild night).  If my hours of study have taught me anything, it is that relationships are rarely “perfect” or “fairytale” but rather bipolar in nature.  Love’s manic highs and crushing lows have given me a reality check on romance and caused me to hurt my brain thinking about it.

There are many fictional and real couples that appear to have it all and be incredibly in love.  I tend to idolize these hot romances and put them on pedestals, but I forget that they have all had their ups and downs.  I look at my parents who are unbelievably happy after nearly 40 years of marriage.  Everyone knows that 40 years means many fights, a lot of tense moments and a whole lot of sacrifice, but they work at their marriage every day and still love each other deeply in the end.  Newsweek wrote a great article about Barack and Michelle Obama which pegs them as the millennial’s dream couple.  I can’t imagine the stress that relationship has endured, but they look so at ease with one another.  I’m jealous…  Another presidential couple that comes to mind is John and Abigail Adams.  I’m not going to pretend I’ve read David McCullough’s acclaimed biography, but I have seen the HBO series (it’s really good!) clearly making me an expert.  I was moved by the deep connection between the Adams family matriarch and patriarch.  Their steamy romance endured a revolution, many children, years of separation, a vice presidency, a presidency and many other trials.  Their connection is one that I think every couple dreams about.

The cynic inside of me knows there are tough times in every relationship, but there is always a euphoric state in the early part of a romance to throw you off.  Flowers smell better, music sounds more heavenly and nothing can appear to go wrong.  I call this the “Katrina and the Waves period” where a person is truly walking on sunshine.  Unfortunately, the skipping and singing in the streets comes to an end and reality hits.  There is no perfect person, and life tends to interfere with the fairytale.  Although imperfections and hiccups may be frustrating, it is these challenges that test relationships to see if they are the real deal.  I have found that working through the kinks is what makes you truly love the other person or know when it’s time to end the romance.

I have had two “real” relationships (I’m excluding flings, jerks that treated me like crap and obviously hook ups of any sort) – one ended and one is ongoing.  Neither one of them have been easy, convenient or fairytale-like.  My ex-boyfriend lived four hours away (clearly not ideal) yet we made it work by talking every night, weekend visits, etc.  We had a lot of fun together, I adored him and he quickly became my best friend.  I changed a lot after I graduated college, and I started to head in a different direction.  More problems kept coming up, and my feelings started to change.  Although I still loved him, I had fallen out of love with him and didn’t think we could make it in the long run.  To this day, I still feel a deep pain when I think about him, because he was so very special to me even though it didn’t work out. 

My current “situation” has been a roller coaster ride filled with blissful highs and dark lows.  We met at the most inconvenient time in our lives: during our 3 month corporate development program when we were both trying to focus on our careers.  We fought the attraction for awhile, but it eventually turned into an incredibly intense connection we couldn’t ignore.  He now lives in Europe, but we can’t seem to quit each other (we’ve really tried…).  He makes me laugh more than anyone, keeps me grounded, brings out the best in me and still gives me butterflies.  If it weren’t for the Atlantic Ocean and a series of unfortunate events, this relationship had fairytale potential.  As we work through the distance and our problems, it becomes more apparent to me that we have a great spark and the gusto to deal with the tough times.  Even though it hasn’t been a perfect story (and it is a bizarre one to many), I still think of him as my prince charming. 

My romances most certainly haven’t been fairytales.  Situations complicate things, feelings change and the timing is terrible.  Do I believe in romance and everlasting spark?  Yes, it comes with unglamorous struggles but is totally worth it for the right person.  Do I believe in fairytales or perfect relationships?  No, much in the same way that I don’t believe in leprechauns or a right-wing social agenda.