Piggy is exactly how I feel after spending the majority of the month of January feeding from hotel buffets around the world. Like some kind of culinary Darwinism, buffet food always seems to be of moderate to low quality, while finer foods are only available in small portions. Despite my refined tastes, I find myself slopping at the trough with the rest of my corporate comrades, going from sales meeting to sales meeting like a troop of zombies whose only purpose is to eat, drink, and watch PowerPoint.
OK, so it's not all THAT bad. After coming home from our family trip to San Francisco, we had a few days to vacate the Christmas tree and its thousands of needles, followed by Koby's 4th birthday! We had friends over--mostly the brunch crew--and together feasted on Dora the Explorer cake. Koby made out like a bandit, as usual. It's tough having a birthday so close to Christmas. Maybe we'll start going light on the birthday and start celebrating his adoption day in August in a bigger way. Better balance.
Anyway, the day after, I headed off to Cabo San Lucas, Mexico, for our Latin America sales meeting. I had only ever heard of Cabo as a port for the Love Boat in the 70s. Isolated and still relatively underdeveloped in the year 2007, I still prefer places where you actually get to see some of Mexico, rather than being holed up in a resort hotel far from civilization. Despite that, we had a productive meeting, and a little too much dancing most nights.
The trip home was nightmarish. Apparently ice storms in Dallas had crippled American Airlines flights around the world, but after 3 hours' sleep, my body trudged itself out to Cabo airport that Saturday morning, not knowing that, instead of getting home in 12 hours, it would take me 30 before I would reach Logan Airport, including a night's stay in the Chicago O'Hare Hilton. Oh well, it happens.
After the Latin America meeting of cerveza, pico de gallo and meringue, I soon found myself trading in my jalapeños for tiny but powerful Southeast Asian chilies in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. No dancing this time. Just lots of meetings, PowerPoint, food and drink, in the shadow of the world's 2nd tallest building, the Petronas Towers.
Did I mention the PowerPoint?
It was great being in my old "stomping grounds" of the Asia sales meeting, in the company of many familiar faces, and several new ones. I do miss it quite a bit, but I can confidently say that I wouldn't trade it for what I have now. That's therapy in action! 
Then came one of the highlights of the month--my first trip to India. I only went to one place--Chennai (the former Madras), and only for 36 hours, unfortunately. But I still managed an Ayuvedic massage, 5 kilos of Southern Indian food under my belt, and some very productive work.
All this may never have come to pass, if I hadn't made it from the airport to the hotel, however. Riding in what seemed like a 1962 taxi with original fabric upholstery, my driver got stalled in the middle of a busy street, halfway to the hotel. First he stopped, got out, lifted the hood, and started tooling around with the battery connection (or something) with a screwdriver. A few failed attempts, 500 whizzing vehicles and 102 puffs of exhaust later, I saw my cabbie come back and reach into the front seat, and pull out a ROCK. With trusty rock in hand, he pounded on the battery again, but still no dice. The starter just wouldn't start. (By this time I started to suspect that this happened to this poor guy quite a lot.)
Eventually some friendly compatriots driving little things that look like Thai tuk-tuks got out and started pushing us. The driver popped the clutch, and soon we were off. Who wouldn't need an Ayurvedic massage after that?
Finally (yes, this does go on), I left Chennai for Singapore, where I spent two glorious days of email catch-up and otherwise relaxing with my best friend Christopher, his boyfriend Gabriel, and seeing other great friends like Peter, Joanne, Ronn and Melvin that I hadn't seen in a while.
I paused and considered Christopher's and my fortydom, as I reflected on a quote by Coco Chanel: "Nature gives you the face you have at twenty. Life shapes the face you have at thirty. But at fifty you get the face you deserve." Coco doesn't tell us what forty is about. But in any event, here we are.
Another 28 hours and three flights later, and I'm finally back at home. Bitter cold? Yes, but only on the outside.
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