21.5.06

Hindi grlz dig Hip-Hop PLUS Grandparents do the Darndest things!

For the past three weekends, I have found myself going home, but not because I'm homesick. 2 weeks ago, there was a family crisis and I wanted to be there. Last week was Mother's Day, and this weekend was my best Indian friend's belated birthday party.

I am no stranger to being the only white girl at a party because of my dearest friend, but I enjoy it immensely despite extreme awkwardness. Usually, I say the words for them. "Silly white girl don't know nothin." Which is 100% true, and that's why at Indian social events, I take a step back, watch my friend do her chit-chatting, and observe everyone else. Occasionally, I'll pique someone's interest and they'll ask me a few questions. If I'm with my friend's family, they always ask about my singing or dancing. The things that stick in peoples' heads...

But this desi party was different. None of my friend's family was present. All the attendees (most of which arrived 2 1/2 hours late) were newly made college friends. So all the girls were young and spoke English to each other and not just out of politeness for me. These girls loved to put their hair down, and quite literally. Most of them wore hijabs (the scarf that Muslim women wear to cover their hair and neck) and for many of the girls, it was their first time seeing each other's hair.

What I found most interesting, though, was their music selection. I have come to realize that my friend's love of Bollywood music is not shared with the rest of her demograph. Everyone wanted to listen to hip-hop. I kid you not! Sean Paul seemed to be the favorite with his hit single "Temperature." Not only did they love listening to this music, but in true desi fashion, they loved dancing to it too. By far, the most impressive dancer was an eighth grader from Lombard who could do everything from the worm to sultry hip checks straight from a Shakira music video. I probably got along with her best out of all the girls. Unfortunately, I can't remember her name. But that's not surprising considering I can't remember anyone's name at Indian gatherings.

When my parents found out that I was going to this party, they told me I couldn't take the train back to Chi-town, which I didn't fuss about too much because Adams and Jackson street get uber-creepy and quiet after dark and they are the only streets to get to the nearest El station.
So last night I slept in my own bed. Yay! And this morning, I went to church with Xingmao and his family, followed by a delicious Cantonese feast. Things would have been perfect if Grandpa Wat hadn't thrown up at the table several times and insisted that he was fine. He's ninety, maybe older, and his swallowing mechanism wasn't working properly (or so the family told me).
Oh man did that freak me out.

Because Xingmao subjected me to his family, I decided I wanted to visit my grandparents who were not too far away. Again, the experience would have been really nice if grandpa hadn't hit Xingmao's car! Fortunately, my grandpa hits cars all the time and is well accustomed to shelling out the dough to fix the damage.

It's been an interesting weekend.

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