Don't go back to Boston, er, Rockville
My North Face knockoff backpack has served me well, it's dilapidated mass accompanying me accross the US, Asia, Europe and South America. I subscribe to a belief that one should never travel with more than one can readily carry oneself, because: who knows what sort of places and situations one might find oneself in. The Andes, the New York Subway, etc: not very wheely friendly. I have great disdain for girly women who overpack and then expect men to bail them out. The exception is for two month excursions like I am currently on, but I still am pretty manageably compact.
The think is with my backpack is it has a 30 pound tipping point, or more precisely tip-me-over point. At 35, it starts to cause inordinate amounts of back pain. Also, I need it strapped tightly on; when jiggly, my disks jiggle with it. Hence, on a freezing day and thus enthusiastically bundled, thus with 32-lb bag jiggling to much back pain, I found myself trying to shlumph from the New York subway to the Chinatown bus to Boston. I couldn't get a taxi. It was freezing, my back was screaming in pain, and I was so exhausted. I bundled into an Au Bon Pain to rest and regather, downing a soup while contemplating my options. I called my uncle to see if he was amenable, and at his assent decided I'd skip Boston and spend my remaining East Coast time ensconced in Rockville.
I was bummed to miss my Boston and Providence friends, especially one high school friend who I recently "found" after she'd gone missing ten years ago. It's sad, she was a very talented artist, but dropped out of college for lack of funds, and is now working in food service. I also missed Itching, another of my masochistic Taiwanese MD/PhDs; Spazzy, a Shanghai friend now in nursing school, and Hu Laoshi. Bjoston was in Michigan, so I'd have missed him anyway, which is just as well.
It turned out a great decision, as I had time to finish my fellowship applications, and got to chill with my DC family. My Doctor Uncle is my mom's twin and the sole sane one in their generation, and thus feels an obligation to take care of the rest of us. He is guilt-ridden at not being able to "save" my brother, even though he did more than anyone. It's not so much the doctor's messiah complex as that he inherited my grandmother's excessive nurturing instinct. I've always refused Dr. Unc's offers of financial assistance; it embarasses me how much my mom mooches off of him. But, it was so nice to be a kid again, so taken care of. While I have a bit of a hard time relating to my uncle, it is comforting to know I have a haven somewhere in the world.
My uncle is also the best mom I know. He is so devoted to my cousin "Princess Jasmine" (since she was obsessed with that character as a kid - and we'll never let her live it down), who's now 15. She's big into dance and drama, and he ferries her to a slew of classes and rehersals, dozing in the car while waiting. I'm amazed that she's not more spoiled; I suspect the darwinianism of daycare plus high parental expectations balanced out the doted-upon only child factor.
My aunt is cool. She is a scientist, and is entertainingly wry and dry, as chatty and catty as Dr. Uncle is quiet and proper. She's Irish Catholic, casually mocking our repressed WASP sensibilities, and is a great source of random family information. For example, I discovered that my grandfather's brothers keep Pomeranians, since that's the part of Germany they were from. Ha. I am Aryan, hear me yap!
With their schedules, it's little surprise they don't cook, and at least they're more adventurous about where they'll eat out than the San Diego family. Still, after several days at their house, I got pretty sick of microwave dinners. Man, no one in my family can cook without a microwave. Even veggies, pasta, they nuke 'em.
Jasmine is fifteen years younger than me, and when I was in college I spent many holidays with them, so she and I were buddies. Teens are a bit harder to interact with, though, and I can't quite muster much enthusiasm for musical theater. The two of us look a lot alike, although she's much taller, and my hair has been dyed away from our mutual honey blonde. But, we have the same eyes, many other similar features, and often stared appraisingly at each other. We do need to get better reacquainted.
