Okay, so I promised details on our trip to India. Since we were there for a whole month, I thought I'd go in relatively large chunks - maybe a week at a time or a location at a time - plus arrival in India and arrival in the States. I'll eventually post a link to our pictures, but until we create a new account, you'll just have to wonder...
So here goes:
The flight to India was not as horrible as I originally thought it might be. It wasn't exactly a laugh riot - Ragsy only slept for about five or six hours of the total 14-hour flight. And I'm sure the girl squished between us and the window was less than delighted to be in the same row as an extremely energetic toddler. Fortunately, Ragsy only really screamed two or three times for about 5-10 minutes each (the three-hour St. Louis to Newark flight before the India flight was so easy it's really not worth giving details). So, it all worked out. We arrived in Bombay around 12 a.m. We cleared customs quickly, so I assumed that the airport outside would be pretty quiet. Not so.
We grabbed our bags and pushed and shoved our way out of the main gates of the airport, only to be confronted with a huge sea of people shouting, some bearing signs, some not. You would have thought that some rock star or famous actor had come to visit. Nope - this is just a normal night at the Bombay airport. My father-in-law managed to push his way to the front of the crowd, so we found him easily.
We were quickly sherpherded to the other side of the crowd and followed his driver to their parking spot where we tossed our bags in the car and were whisked away to my father-in-law's flat. By now it was about 1 a.m. Ragsy was wide awake and wired and my husband and I were exhausted and barely conscious. After managing to calm Ragsy enough to get him to sleep, we snacked a bit and went to bed ourselves, only to be awoken four hours later by our son whose body was not having anything to do with a significant time change.
We only stayed in Bombay for two full days before we flew to Madras. During the first day, which was Christmas Eve, we did absolutely nothing, taking turns watching Ragsy and sleeping, occasionally eating and trying to stay out of the maids' way. The second day, Christmas Day, we went to a lunch at my father-in-law's club with about 20 close friends and family members. Ragsy slept through the entire thing. No amount of back-rubbing, kissing, nudging, jostling, flopping or bouncing would wake him from his five-hour nap. We traded him back and forth between four people, but he never stirred until we were all done with our food. Which was kind of nice, actually.
By the time we got back to my father-in-law's house, Ragsy was ready for action and we were all ready to go into a food coma. My husband and I bargained over who would get to nap. I lost so I watched Ragsy for much of the afternoon. My brother-in-law came over and my husband still slept. Finally I was sent to bed, too, along with Ragsy since I kept falling asleep mid-sentence. Delightful houseguest, no?
Then the next day, we were off to Madras.
I realize that the description of our first two days in India sounds pretty boring. And they were relatively uneventful days. Still, it got more interesting as we went along.
Still, I learned a few things those first couple of days: most people in India have servants if they're lower-middle class or above. It costs just about $25 US (approx. 1,000 rupees) in Bombay to have someone come and clean every single day for a month and less than ten dollars more to have someone cook at least one meal for you a day.
It's really true that cows can go wherever they want to. Donkeys and goats, too. I saw more livestock in the streets of Bombay in the first few days and even more in Delhi than I typically see in three or four months driving by farmland in St. Louis. Who knew? By the time I went home I was ready to sink my teeth into the side of a cow, though.
Younger people in the generation younger than mine, women and men included, work their asses off if they have jobs regardless of what social class they're in. Twelve and 14-hour days are not at all unusual. Also, jobs for women in the generation younger than mine are considered careers while for women my age and older, they're often treated more like hobbies.
You must eat. Hosts don't like it if you don't eat. They think something is wrong with you or with the food. It doesn't matter if you're dieting. If you don't want to offend someone, it's best to take a small portion so you can have room for seconds. Whether you have room or not, someone will inevitably - and very strongly - encourage you to have more. Lots more.
Children (in my husband's family's homes anyway) can do anything they want to as long as it's not life threatening, including throwing toys off balconies (thanks a lot, Ragsy), screaming for no reason, pouring water on the floor, beating inanimate objects (even expensive ones) with sticks and eating nothing but fried food for breakfast (I never quite got used to the deep-fried breakfast).
Finally, in case you didn't know it, butter and oil are health foods and should be included in some form in everything. That means it's on top of any flatbread you eat unless said flatbread is deep-fried, in any subji or curry unless it's swimming will oil instead of butter, and heaped on your toast and in your eggs if you don't eat a deep-fried breakfast. Some households are healthier than others and some regions have more oil in their food than others, but most places use liberal amounts of each unless, of course, you're eating fruit or dessert.
Oh, yeah, and water buffalo milk is the most common and freshest type of milk. If you want cow's milk, you need to specify or you'll get unhomogenized water buffalo's milk that can have up to 8% milkfat and make your 20-month-old perpetually full. But cutting it with water does the trick if you want your child to eat solids, too.
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