The Marriage Plot

Here's a book with enjoyable flow, info you might be able to use and perfect insight into post-grad life in the 1980's.

Jeffrey Eugenides, author of Middlesex has written a book that's a pleasure to read, even though it's filled with brainy Brown graduates. Madeleine, the main character, meets her future husband in a semiotics class her senior year. She takes the class because as an English major who's never really felt mentally stretched, she feels she needs to read things others think of as deep. An old flame, Mitchell, is also in the class.

It turns out her new boyfriend, Leonard, is manic-depressive. She skips graduation to see him at the hospital where he's been admitted after stopping his medicine and sinking into himself. Eugenides paints a fascinating portrait of this chronic disease, which is treatable but not curable. He also shows how mental illness is still a stigma whereas other diseases, such as diabetes, are not.

You'll read everything you always wanted to know about yeast, traveling around India with little money, gambling in Monaco, and New Jersey's upper-middle class. Umberto Eco, Mother Teresa, and Quakerism are explored. Madeleine marries the mentally ill man whom she's been supporting emotionally and financially for over a year. The marriage lasts two months before it unravels like an old sweater.

The Marriage Plot is perfect if like me you love Victorian Literature (go Daniel Deronda!), are intrigued by mental illness (psych major!) and get a kick out of social satire. The fault, dear Brutus, is in ourselves.

Keep 'em Coming

In spite of ice pellets pitting our faces, we had a really enjoyable New York day. We met Sandy and Dianne at the Museum of the American Indian in lower Manhattan, around the corner from our old apartment. The building was originally built for Alexander Hamilton. Even if you have no interest in Native Americans (of course, you can't admit to that), you can enjoy the architecture and lush materials. Entrance is free.

The exhibit was extensive and covered all Indians from Canada to Argentina. It even included the natives of the Caribbean, which I didn't know existed. There were lots of photos, and many objects from different regions. It doesn't dwell on what the white man did to them but rather their rich and varied lives. I recommend it highly.

We walked to Chinatown where we ate lunch at a reincarnation of an old favorite Say Eng Look. The food was delicious, hot soup on a frigid afternoon.

We did a little shopping on the way home and then began dinner prep. Sandy and Dianne were coming for round two of our New York day. We started with Pisco Sours, which we became addicted to in Peru, and some cheeses Marty picked up in Amsterdam. The first course was cream of cauliflower soup, and then a vegetarian pasta dish made with brocolini and ricotta and parmesan cheese. Dessert was the carrot cake I'd made the other day to bring to Andria and Scott's and came back with leftovers. It's still available.

We listened to great jazz records and talked about just about everything. They brought Sadie, their Bouvier, who was the perfect doggie guest.

Nobody told me there'd be days like these.

Great New York Day

Harry and I took the bus and train to see Mark for lunch. We ate at Tom's Restaurant, the diner made famous in Seinfeld. This is a typical New York diner: packed, huge staff and no room to display mile high lemon meringue pie. Although I'm sure they have it.

We went to Mark's room for a moment, and then Harry and I took public transportation to 86th Street, a shopper's paradise. The purpose was to buy a pair of everyday sneakers, since his were purchased when he was still in high school. I am a bad mother. Then he said he needed a hat and a warmer jacket. I sugested he look for a Holden Caulfield hat. Harry read that book last year at age 18 and loved it. Apparently, teenage angst is the same as it ever was.

We went to a store called H & M, because it was there. There were dozens of hats in the men's department, but only one Holden Caulfield cap, for $10. Harry tried on a dozen coats before he chose a modish dark gray herringbone pea coat. He also picked up a hoodie and a pair of warm gloves. He remarked at how cheap everything was. Cheap for him. My baby, until now indifferent to style, is suddenly a fashionista. It must be because he goes to Vassar.

Harry found replacement shoes he liked and also a pair of winter running tights, this at Modell's. Then we stopped at Fairway to buy steak for dinner. Harry ate chicken for 2 weeks in Peru, and he doesn't eat much meat at school. In honor of his last meal, I made Pisco Sours. Good thing dinner was easy to make because those drinks go down easy and make you want to take a siesta.

Today we're driving upstate to retrieve the minivan so Harry can drive all his stuff (including skis) back to school. I'll spend a couple of days at the house and return to NYC Thursday.

Simply put, children are expensive.

How Did I Miss This?

Last night I watched a movie called The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, directed by Julian Schnabel. It was in French with English sub-titles so I had to pay attention. I think only the French can do such meaningful extended metaphors, ones that don't go all soggy and make you cringe.

I'm not going to tell you what the film is about because you should really just watch it. I will say that the cinematography is gorgeous and the acting superb. I must have tucked this film into my unconscious when it first came out. Seeing it at the Jeffersonville Library made it rise to the surface. Libraries always seem to have what I need.

Country Comforts

It's flurrying, the sun is shining and Joni Mitchell is showing her deeper side on the radio, this according to the announcer who wishes she were Joni, quoting Joni and then reluctantly playing her. I wasn't aware there was a shallow side of J.M.

Marty's in Italy, Mariel in Peru, Harry is on a jet plane (I think) and Mark is back in NYC. I came to my country sanctuary Thursday to try to get the minivan to pass inspection. I really came for the solitude. I love being with people, but I love being alone. I read, I write, I cook, I bag old clothes, I watch movies. I'm proud to announce that I figured out how to play a DVD! I'm sad to say, I watched The Lonely Bones. I never read the book, because Mariel was 14 at the time and that's how old the murdered girl is. I thought that since Mariel is now almost 24, it would be safe to watch it. It was safe, but mainly a lot of drivel. The music was good, but my overwhelming feeling was for the girl to go to heaven already.

I finished The Book of Ruth by Jane Hamilton. If I were asked to write a book blurb, I would say "Emotionally redemptive!" It's actually pretty bleak, Dickensian. Dickens is her favorite writer. If you like novels that explore psychological motivation, how a person's upbringing explains how they turn out, Hamilton delivers it in spades. It doesn't use the Twinkie Defense by name, but it gives an amazing portrait of a resilient young woman, and that of her demented and violent husband.

Afraid I'll run out of things to read, I picked up 4 other novels. But I don't read and watch movies all day. I've started working on curtains for the upstairs bedrooms, taken clothes to the consignment shop, bought a frame for a painting I picked up in Peru, cooked Moussaka (delicious) and done a little shopping. I saw a vase in the window of the antique shop in town that cried out to me to buy it. It's very colorful, pinks and greens, done with pastel paints then fired in a kiln. I went to the grocery store and bought a dozen roses for $6. It looks great on my dining room table.

Thinking about Joni, I pulled out her records. We have more in NYC. Miles of Isles, Mingus, Blue (2 more copies in NYC!) and Ladies of the Canyon. We also own more Elton John records than it seems possible, including 2 Tumbleweed Connections. I know there's more in New York. There was a time our records were organized by genre and artist. We had a smaller collection then.

Tonight I'll watch another movie, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly. Look for my review soon.

Peru

The beach at Miraflores, Lima

The Catacombs, Lima

Mariel at San Cristobal, Lima

Machu Picchu, Peru

Misty and cool. Way cool.

Inka King and Consort

Step a little further back...

Chechuan mother and child

Our tour bus crashes into a train

Huaycan kids: Mariel, Mariel ...

Mariel's Huaycan classroom

Huaycan cemetery on the hillside

Marty took hundreds of photos on our trip to Peru, but I've culled them down to the ones most representative of our stay there. Aren't you lucky?

Lima is the capital and has about 9 million residents. One of the districts is Miraflores which is right on the beach and you've probably guessed has a lot of beautiful flowers which they must water every day because it never rains in Lima. We also visited a Franciscan monastery famous for its catacombs. The strangest thing about it was that the thousands of bones were arranged by bone type, femurs, tibias, et cetera. There was one pile of skulls and an intact skeleton of recent vintage. We then took a tour on a bus that climbed to the top of San Cristobal which overlooks the entire city. The ride was as amazing as the view in that we had to back up on hairpin turns to let other vehicles pass. One man had a panic attack and demanded to be let out, which he was, followed by his concerned family. The rest of the passengers were crying and praying and imploring the driver to stop. We were the only gringos on the bus. Maybe they've never driven in Costa Rica.

The trip to Cuzco was an adventure. We flew there from Lima and spent the day trying to adjust to over 17,000 feet altitude. Marty and I were both briefly ill, even though we drank coca tea. The next day we took a bus to a train that would take us down to Machu Picchu at about 5,000 feet. The ride took 3.5 hours but passed through lush scenery. We met our guide and took another bus ride to the site.

Machu Picchu is so iconic, it's hard to be objective once you're actually there. Shrouded in clouds and mist, it doesn't seem real. I quickly realized how real it was when I started climbing up the stairway to heaven. The siting and the engineering of the Inka civilization used terracing to make the settlement, moving large boulders from above to below. They took advantage of their altitude for security, and to move water through an ingenious drainage system. Machu Picchu was a sacred site, inhabited by priests and Inkas high on the religious, social and artistic scale. They worshiped the sun and built their settlement to reflect this. The solstices were the most important days of the year for them, December 21 and June 21. Our guide said that since Marty's birthday is June 21st, he's a reincarnated Inkan priest.

We had lunch, got back on the bus and then back on the train to go up to Cuzco. It's worth noting that the entertainment for the trip was a tiger-faced jester dancing up and down the aisle, grabbing women to be his partner. Mariel refused, and he didn't ask me. Then the train crew did a fashion show of vičuna wool that's very soft and expensive, all to the beat of a techno-classic rock mash-up. What a day!

The next day we visited the Sacred Valley, seat of Chechuan culture. Women wear traditional bright woven garb and carry their babies wrapped around their backs. We climbed 500 steps to reach the top of the Chechuan settlement overlooking the valley. The Chechuans, a later civilization than the Inkas, looked to the moon and stars to guide their religious and cultural life. It was on this trip that our bus crashed into a train (see photo). Fortunately, only 2 passengers and the driver were on the bus, and just one of the passengers was hurt, thankfully, a minor cut that would require stitches. They provided us with another bus for the rest of the trip and the trip back to Cuzco.

Here are 2 complaints I have about our Sacred Valley trip. We only toured the site for 2 hours. The rest of the time was spent on shopping stops, which became tedious. The other, more disturbing occurrence was that every time we left our hotel, vendors jumped out at us. All around the city, people shoved their goods in our faces or begged for money. I felt we had a big sign on us that said: Rich Gringos! I've never been to India or other truly poor parts of the world. I visited Guatemala in 2000 and was never accosted like this. The bargaining, however, is the same.

The last part of our trip was the least glamorous and certainly not touristy, but quite amazing. We took a taxi to Huaycan, a part of Lima, but extremely poor and dusty. This is where Mariel is working with the Light and Leadership organization (www.lightandleadership.org). Her house is modern with all the conveniences. She's the house manager, and also teaches some classes. We took a bus up the mountain to tell her students classes would begin again in a week. When they saw her, they came running, calling her name and giving her a big hug. We saw the classroom the organization uses, which overlooks a huge cemetery carved into the hill. Sitting on a dirt background, the mausoleums were the size of small houses and just as colorful. It was a sobering site, but somehow cheerful.

Thanks for reading one of the longest posts I've ever written.