Last night, I actually sat down for a while without the TV on while my husband was putting our son to bed. It was quiet. It should have been completely unremarkable. I should have been doing about a dozen other things, like working out, writing, cleaning, folding things, tidying, cooking, organizing, preparing for the next day, etc. But I didn't. I sat down and was quiet. And it was good.
For the first time in weeks I went to bed calm but not exhausted. And I was able to sleep instead of either lying awake for hours or passing out. It was fantastic.
Anyway, it sounds pretty basic, but it was a milestone for me. As I've noted before, I grew up in a house where silence and inactivity were considered really odd. Silence and idleness are anathema. Not because they're the devil's workshop or any such nonsense, but because my mom also grew up where not doing anything was simply not acceptable.
So, the "busy-ness" hierarchy works like this: most strenuous, crappy tasks take greatest priority. The least crappy tasks are the least important. But no where on that organizational chart does silence fall.
So, at the top of the hierarchy, most important but least fun, is having a job - depending on your job, of course. If you don't have a job, the top rung is heavy-duty cleaning. If you do have one, cleaning comes just barely second. (But everyone knows that, job or no, women are absolutely, positively 100% responsible for ensuring a clean and pleasant home, right?!? After all, that's what we LIVE for.)
Anyway, then comes cooking, which runs in a closed loop with cleaning.
After that, manual labor: gardening.
Once you're done with that, there's the detail work, running neck and neck with laundry and ironing (though laundry can take precedence over gardening). As in, the top rung of cleaning is the really crappy stuff - toilet scrubbing, floor washing, mass dusting, etc. The detail work is going around the stovetops with Q-tips, washing your grout in the bathroom, etc.
Once you're done with that come the home improvement projects.
Then if you've finished all those and you're still looking for something to do, well, you're in luck! There's mail to sort through and throw out. Spices to alphabetize and correspondence to keep up with (fortunately I get to do this by e-mail now).
Once you've finished all that, you better darn well have a sewing project handy to keep your hands busy. Who knows what might happen if you don't keep those hands busy (hairy palms, anyone?)!
If you've done with that or need a break, you can watch TV or call someone. Or read a book. Or, better yet, start planning the grocery list and menu for the next week, pay some bills or balance your checkbook!
But silence? Sitting around and not doing anything is just...weird. Who does that anyway?
So, it was nice last night to break through the guilt (there's so freaking much to do I almost didn't bother) and just sit and be quiet. It felt indulgent, completely decadent. And absolutely wonderful.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Friday, February 15, 2008
Okay, so my outlook on the universe has improved.
Not for any particular reason. Just that, as I was driving home from my doctor's appointment last night, I started to see the humor in things. It can take a while sometimes. It struck me as ridiculously funny that not only do I work in senior programs, but I've managed to get a disease typical of that population. It also seemed like a sitcom that Ragsy should get sick at the same time and I'd be left ranting that, even when I have a debilitating and painful illness, I still can't get a break a la Homer Simpson.
Plus, having my husband scream "No! Not the POX!" every once in a while can't help but make me laugh. So, even though I have a pretty constant headache and my calves are tightening ever more, somehow things are good again. For now.
Since I can't exactly do a whole lot of work, nor do I particularly want to, I'm trying to use this as an opportunity to relax, be a couch potato and also reorganize my house, which looks like a nuclear bomb hit it. Since I schedule 30 minutes a day to clean and my husband does not without prodding, there's crap everywhere. I'd also like to do some gentle exercise to get my calves to loosen.
Plus, I've got more discipline issues with Ragsy. It doesn't take long, does it? Last night was the first time I've put him to bed since last Thursday. He'd gotten used to his dad's more lenient method of reading to him, then letting him play until he's thoroughly exhausted, then turning out the light for a quick conk out. Unfortunately for him, mommy doesn't work that way. I'm all about the cuddles and the playing for a while, but once the clock hits 7:45, it's books away, lights out and we have calm quiet time until sleep takes us, preferably with me next to the bed instead of in it. With the eventual goal of being able to leave the room entirely, of course, but with minimal crying and screaming.
Well, Ragsy hasn't been used to me being the disciplinarian lately. I've been the one who shows up magically after a long absence to play savior and make him happy. Also, because I couldn't even sit up well for a couple of days after I started to get better, I let him watch hours of TV for a day and a half. (Yes, yes - bad mother for letting my kid watch so much Fraggle Rock, but I'd like to see anyone get over a three- or five-day migraine where they feel like their eye was being dug out with a rusty spoon with just loads of energy.)
So, when last night came and we were done reading, the screaming started. For about forty minutes. After the first ten, Ragsy shoved me off the bed. So I sat next to it. He kept shoving, so finally I left after turning on the nightlight. This did not go over well. He came out, shrieking and held up his palm to ward me off while he looked for daddy. But daddy wasn't sympathetic and dammit, it was my night. So I calmly picked him up even though he was doing his best to get away, kissed him and whispered "night, night" over the shrieks, tried to rub his back and calm him down, only to be shoved right off the bed again. I left again, and this time when he came out to the hall and saw me coming to meet him, he threw himself on the floor in an all-out tantrum. Rinse. Repeat. Rinse. Repeat. Until finally, finally he pulled me to him, cuddled up to me and conked out.
We had planned to work on getting him to sleep on his own after I got better. But I think for a week or so, we'll need to work on getting him to understand that bedtime means sleep time and that he needs to listen not just to daddy, but to mommy, too. Amazing how quickly you lose that edge with a little one.
Plus, having my husband scream "No! Not the POX!" every once in a while can't help but make me laugh. So, even though I have a pretty constant headache and my calves are tightening ever more, somehow things are good again. For now.
Since I can't exactly do a whole lot of work, nor do I particularly want to, I'm trying to use this as an opportunity to relax, be a couch potato and also reorganize my house, which looks like a nuclear bomb hit it. Since I schedule 30 minutes a day to clean and my husband does not without prodding, there's crap everywhere. I'd also like to do some gentle exercise to get my calves to loosen.
Plus, I've got more discipline issues with Ragsy. It doesn't take long, does it? Last night was the first time I've put him to bed since last Thursday. He'd gotten used to his dad's more lenient method of reading to him, then letting him play until he's thoroughly exhausted, then turning out the light for a quick conk out. Unfortunately for him, mommy doesn't work that way. I'm all about the cuddles and the playing for a while, but once the clock hits 7:45, it's books away, lights out and we have calm quiet time until sleep takes us, preferably with me next to the bed instead of in it. With the eventual goal of being able to leave the room entirely, of course, but with minimal crying and screaming.
Well, Ragsy hasn't been used to me being the disciplinarian lately. I've been the one who shows up magically after a long absence to play savior and make him happy. Also, because I couldn't even sit up well for a couple of days after I started to get better, I let him watch hours of TV for a day and a half. (Yes, yes - bad mother for letting my kid watch so much Fraggle Rock, but I'd like to see anyone get over a three- or five-day migraine where they feel like their eye was being dug out with a rusty spoon with just loads of energy.)
So, when last night came and we were done reading, the screaming started. For about forty minutes. After the first ten, Ragsy shoved me off the bed. So I sat next to it. He kept shoving, so finally I left after turning on the nightlight. This did not go over well. He came out, shrieking and held up his palm to ward me off while he looked for daddy. But daddy wasn't sympathetic and dammit, it was my night. So I calmly picked him up even though he was doing his best to get away, kissed him and whispered "night, night" over the shrieks, tried to rub his back and calm him down, only to be shoved right off the bed again. I left again, and this time when he came out to the hall and saw me coming to meet him, he threw himself on the floor in an all-out tantrum. Rinse. Repeat. Rinse. Repeat. Until finally, finally he pulled me to him, cuddled up to me and conked out.
We had planned to work on getting him to sleep on his own after I got better. But I think for a week or so, we'll need to work on getting him to understand that bedtime means sleep time and that he needs to listen not just to daddy, but to mommy, too. Amazing how quickly you lose that edge with a little one.
Last leg - Bombay.
Okay, this is the last bit of our India trip. By now, I was looking forward to getting back home to a schedule and to disciplining my son. I didn't particularly want to punish him for anything, but by this point, he'd developed certain behaviors that just needed to go. Primarily, he screamed at the drop of a hat, and sometimes for no reason at all. He'd just stand in the middle of a room and let loose, probably to get attention. His sleeping was also all screwy again and he'd beat things with sticks at the drop of a hat and no one would gainsay him, so some of those things included glass doors, windows, china, etc. Fortunately, he only managed to break one thing.
Anyway, getting to Bombay was very welcome - we were there for six days and spent most of our time lounging about my father-in-law's flat and visiting friends and family or taking visitors. The best part of our visit was meeting my husband's best friend from high school. He has a very similar sense of humor to my husband's. I loved it.
We also met his wife, a very nice lady, and my husband's best friend's mom and dad, who live in their flat. Additionally, we met the best friend's kid. If you want the perfect example of an Indian child in my husband's family's circles this is it. The kid is brilliant and ridiculously indulged. He speaks three languages, two of them fluently, and is working to pick up a fourth. He's given more or less everything he wants and is literally hand fed by his mom at every meal. There's usually a special, multi-dish meal made just for him before the adults, then the adults eat a different, equally elaborate meal (granted, adult food and kid food is pretty different - kids' food is less spicy, though there are still lost more chilies than Ragsy's used to). Anyway, this child is three and a half years old and makes me and most linguists I know look like yokels.
We also saw a lot of my brother-in-law and his girlfriend, which was actually really refreshing. The brother-in-law I met when he was living in the US was kind of a jerk who painted everyone he met with a broad brush and did it straight to their faces. This guy has matured considerably and has learned a lot of diplomacy and far more tact. Plus, three years after dropping out of college, he has his first paying job and is actually doing quite well as an ecological consultant. His girlfriend was wonderful - very intelligent, very nice. And very different from all the other Indian women I'd met thus far. She was a lot more opinionated and direct and participated a lot in the conversation even in mixed company.
Not that Indian women are demurring nimrods - every single woman I met was really well spoken and very smart, especially my husband's grandmother, who never went past the fifth grade in school because she was being groomed for marriage. But most of the women I met don't speak up much in male company and are very rarely contradictory.
Let's see here - we met a lot of interesting people throughout. Quite a few characters. My father-in-law's girlfriend was there to meet us at the airport and took us to meet her son after we'd had a nap on landing. Her son is in Bollywood and is currently shooting two films. His girlfriend I think is an artist and teacher. Regardless, both are insanely beautiful people, though not plasticky looking like Hollywood types.
The last two or three days in Bombay were mostly spent shopping during the daylight hours and visiting friends at night. We shopped a heck of a lot and still having a dining table full of stuff that we have yet to dole out to friends and family or start using ourselves.
Anyway, like I said, we didn't do a whole lot except for meet some really cool people and hang out a lot. But it, along with Rajkot, were probably some of the best parts of the trip, not because we don't like to see things, but because Ragsy was relaxed. And when Ragsy's relaxed, everyone's happy. I think he spent at least a third of his time playing in bowls of water dressed in nothing but his diaper on various people's terraces.
Still, I was pretty happy when the day came for us to get home. My husband was homesick just being in India and asked me several times if I would be interested in moving there. I told him I'd be willing to talk about a temporary move, but that a longer-term move might be harder. Then we got stuck in traffic one day in Bombay for more than two hours and he decided he didn't even want to move there temporarily, but that we'd visit more often. Which is just fine with me. Especially because the next time we go, Ragsy will be required to have his own seat and will probably be old enough to know to stay in it.
And that, at last, is the end.
Anyway, getting to Bombay was very welcome - we were there for six days and spent most of our time lounging about my father-in-law's flat and visiting friends and family or taking visitors. The best part of our visit was meeting my husband's best friend from high school. He has a very similar sense of humor to my husband's. I loved it.
We also met his wife, a very nice lady, and my husband's best friend's mom and dad, who live in their flat. Additionally, we met the best friend's kid. If you want the perfect example of an Indian child in my husband's family's circles this is it. The kid is brilliant and ridiculously indulged. He speaks three languages, two of them fluently, and is working to pick up a fourth. He's given more or less everything he wants and is literally hand fed by his mom at every meal. There's usually a special, multi-dish meal made just for him before the adults, then the adults eat a different, equally elaborate meal (granted, adult food and kid food is pretty different - kids' food is less spicy, though there are still lost more chilies than Ragsy's used to). Anyway, this child is three and a half years old and makes me and most linguists I know look like yokels.
We also saw a lot of my brother-in-law and his girlfriend, which was actually really refreshing. The brother-in-law I met when he was living in the US was kind of a jerk who painted everyone he met with a broad brush and did it straight to their faces. This guy has matured considerably and has learned a lot of diplomacy and far more tact. Plus, three years after dropping out of college, he has his first paying job and is actually doing quite well as an ecological consultant. His girlfriend was wonderful - very intelligent, very nice. And very different from all the other Indian women I'd met thus far. She was a lot more opinionated and direct and participated a lot in the conversation even in mixed company.
Not that Indian women are demurring nimrods - every single woman I met was really well spoken and very smart, especially my husband's grandmother, who never went past the fifth grade in school because she was being groomed for marriage. But most of the women I met don't speak up much in male company and are very rarely contradictory.
Let's see here - we met a lot of interesting people throughout. Quite a few characters. My father-in-law's girlfriend was there to meet us at the airport and took us to meet her son after we'd had a nap on landing. Her son is in Bollywood and is currently shooting two films. His girlfriend I think is an artist and teacher. Regardless, both are insanely beautiful people, though not plasticky looking like Hollywood types.
The last two or three days in Bombay were mostly spent shopping during the daylight hours and visiting friends at night. We shopped a heck of a lot and still having a dining table full of stuff that we have yet to dole out to friends and family or start using ourselves.
Anyway, like I said, we didn't do a whole lot except for meet some really cool people and hang out a lot. But it, along with Rajkot, were probably some of the best parts of the trip, not because we don't like to see things, but because Ragsy was relaxed. And when Ragsy's relaxed, everyone's happy. I think he spent at least a third of his time playing in bowls of water dressed in nothing but his diaper on various people's terraces.
Still, I was pretty happy when the day came for us to get home. My husband was homesick just being in India and asked me several times if I would be interested in moving there. I told him I'd be willing to talk about a temporary move, but that a longer-term move might be harder. Then we got stuck in traffic one day in Bombay for more than two hours and he decided he didn't even want to move there temporarily, but that we'd visit more often. Which is just fine with me. Especially because the next time we go, Ragsy will be required to have his own seat and will probably be old enough to know to stay in it.
And that, at last, is the end.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Now I really must protest.
I promised myself that I wasn't going to post about anything but India until I finished slogging through our trip and boring you with tales of our adventures (we had fun, though). However, something has happened that has nullified that desire. My next post will be about Bombay, but for now, a brief rant.
My husband has been trying to tell me for a couple of months now that the universe is inherently unfair. Until last week, I persisted in my Pollyanna-ish thinking, asserting that you just needed to look at things the right way. Then it happened. Then I got shingles. What. The. Hell?? At 32, I got a disease more typical of a 50- or 60-year old. Why? Apparently it was stress that cause it to erupt.
I first noticed...something about two weeks ago, a week before it started. My head kept tingling, not a good sign, especially for someone with a seizure disorder. But I ignored it. It happens every once in a while and has never meant anything, but you do tend to pause at the least little abnormality when something's wrong with your brain.
Then I got the weird thingy at the corner of my eyebrow. Do I have dandruff on my eyebrow? I thought. How does that happen? Nah, must be a pre-zit or something. But the next day I noticed it was wet. Ewwww! Then the stabbing pain began in my eye. For three days, I would be forced to pause or double over in pain as an ice pick was driven into my skull. I was really tired, too. I had been exercising a lot, so that was kind of weird, since I live on exercise. My muscles were stiff and aching every time I woke up, when I stood up, walked, climbed stairs at work - more or less anything I did. Then I started losing my appetite. Definitely weird.
Finally on Thursday night the migraine started. Stabbing, throbbing pain as I tried to pat my little boy back to sleep in the middle of the night. Finally, I just lay down on the floor and held my head until my husband came in and took over. I took the next morning off, then tried to drive into work, almost throwing up from the pain by the time I got there. I grabbed my laptop's power cable and left again and went to bed. By Saturday morning, I was at the ER where some chuckling doctor told me I had shingles. I gaped at him and he kept on chuckling, telling me that if he had a dime for every 30-year old who was surprised to get shingles, he'd be rich.
At 4 a.m., I was released with a prescription for an anti-viral med and some vicodin ("heh, heh, you'll definitely need the pain medication," the doctor said. The jackass.). Finally, I got home, took some pills and got into bed. There was nothing but pain for the next 48 hours. I'd pass out for an hour and a half and try to stay as still as possible until my next allowed dose of vicodin. Plus, my eye swelled shut when the virus moved toward my optic nerve. I had to go back to the ER to have them make sure there was no damage. There is a little bit, but it should repair itself.
Then my son started having trouble breathing. My husband took him to the ER. They came back, went back to bed. My husband spent Monday babysitting both me and our son. Tuesday I watched Ragsy in the morning and my husband came home again to watch both of us.
For the first three days of the illness, I wasn't allowed to touch my son. The pain was awful, but not being able to help him feel better was pure hell. I still can't kiss him or let him anywhere near my face. I can't put him to bed or comfort him at night because my head may touch his pillow and I have sores all over the right side of my face and in my hair on my scalp.
Then last night the fever came again. I have his infection. Plus, I have phantom pain lingering from the shingles. Every once in a while the right side of my face throbs sharply. And my calves have started to tighten, another side effect, so sometimes I get charlie horses at night.
I know other people have it lots, lots worse. I can't imagine getting this illness if I were bedridden and already sick. Just another bit of proof that the universe is not fair. Stupid universe.
My husband has been trying to tell me for a couple of months now that the universe is inherently unfair. Until last week, I persisted in my Pollyanna-ish thinking, asserting that you just needed to look at things the right way. Then it happened. Then I got shingles. What. The. Hell?? At 32, I got a disease more typical of a 50- or 60-year old. Why? Apparently it was stress that cause it to erupt.
I first noticed...something about two weeks ago, a week before it started. My head kept tingling, not a good sign, especially for someone with a seizure disorder. But I ignored it. It happens every once in a while and has never meant anything, but you do tend to pause at the least little abnormality when something's wrong with your brain.
Then I got the weird thingy at the corner of my eyebrow. Do I have dandruff on my eyebrow? I thought. How does that happen? Nah, must be a pre-zit or something. But the next day I noticed it was wet. Ewwww! Then the stabbing pain began in my eye. For three days, I would be forced to pause or double over in pain as an ice pick was driven into my skull. I was really tired, too. I had been exercising a lot, so that was kind of weird, since I live on exercise. My muscles were stiff and aching every time I woke up, when I stood up, walked, climbed stairs at work - more or less anything I did. Then I started losing my appetite. Definitely weird.
Finally on Thursday night the migraine started. Stabbing, throbbing pain as I tried to pat my little boy back to sleep in the middle of the night. Finally, I just lay down on the floor and held my head until my husband came in and took over. I took the next morning off, then tried to drive into work, almost throwing up from the pain by the time I got there. I grabbed my laptop's power cable and left again and went to bed. By Saturday morning, I was at the ER where some chuckling doctor told me I had shingles. I gaped at him and he kept on chuckling, telling me that if he had a dime for every 30-year old who was surprised to get shingles, he'd be rich.
At 4 a.m., I was released with a prescription for an anti-viral med and some vicodin ("heh, heh, you'll definitely need the pain medication," the doctor said. The jackass.). Finally, I got home, took some pills and got into bed. There was nothing but pain for the next 48 hours. I'd pass out for an hour and a half and try to stay as still as possible until my next allowed dose of vicodin. Plus, my eye swelled shut when the virus moved toward my optic nerve. I had to go back to the ER to have them make sure there was no damage. There is a little bit, but it should repair itself.
Then my son started having trouble breathing. My husband took him to the ER. They came back, went back to bed. My husband spent Monday babysitting both me and our son. Tuesday I watched Ragsy in the morning and my husband came home again to watch both of us.
For the first three days of the illness, I wasn't allowed to touch my son. The pain was awful, but not being able to help him feel better was pure hell. I still can't kiss him or let him anywhere near my face. I can't put him to bed or comfort him at night because my head may touch his pillow and I have sores all over the right side of my face and in my hair on my scalp.
Then last night the fever came again. I have his infection. Plus, I have phantom pain lingering from the shingles. Every once in a while the right side of my face throbs sharply. And my calves have started to tighten, another side effect, so sometimes I get charlie horses at night.
I know other people have it lots, lots worse. I can't imagine getting this illness if I were bedridden and already sick. Just another bit of proof that the universe is not fair. Stupid universe.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Rajkot
I ran out of steam once more the last time I blogged (that happens when you don't sleep for a week thanks to a cranky, molar-getting toddler), but I want to get through India so I can complain and I'm almost there. So, here's Rajkot in a nutshell (or not so much as a nutshell - more like a biosphere):
After our flight to Amedebad was cancelled, we finally had to leave Delhi, go to Bombay, fly into Amedebad and then drive from there to Rajkot. So, our 9 a.m. flight and anticipated arrival in Rajkot via Amedebad at noon turned into a midnight arrival. I have to say, Ragsy was absolutely wonderful. Even though he was dragged around constantly, forced to sleep in airports, airplanes and cars and his movement was limited most of the day, he was still relatively sweet and relaxed.
When we finally got to Rajkot just after midnight, we had to spend about 20 minutes waiting outside before we could enter the house since they apparently had to wake everyone up for a ceremony before we could come in. So, I sat with Ragsy in the car until about 12:30 when we were greeted at the door by all the servants, my husband's aunt and uncle, his Nanima (who had picked us up at the airport), two dogs and the driver.
The ceremony involved a lot of yelling, turmeric paste, rice and garlands. And photos. Lots of photos. It was a welcome unlike any I had ever experienced.
We went in and, after a couple of hours, managed to get Ragsy back to sleep. Since he'd been dragged all over India and had slept in the car on the way to Rajkot (except when we stopped at a roadside restaurant for dinner during which he understandably screamed his head off since he was tired), he was pretty wired. We finally calmed him down enough to sleep around 2:30 and went to bed around 3.
The next day was wonderful because we did nothing. In fact, that was kind of our MO in Rajkot. The pace of life is so different than anywhere else. Probably because my husband's family can afford it and they don't live in a big metropolis like Bombay.
We took a few day trips, one to the family fort and then on the way back visited cousins at their palace. Then a few days later, we went to the family temple and had a ceremony and lunch and went home. We also had a party for my husband's birthday and shopped a lot. But, for the most part, the eight days we spent there all had a similar structure:
- Wake up - everyone's usually up by 9:30, though one of us usually got up with Ragsy at 7:30
- Putz around until Ragsy's nap at noon
- Sit down to lunch at 1
- Putz around again for about an hour
- Afternoon nap for the adults around 3 (my husband and I took turns with Ragsy because he'd be up by this time)
- Coffee or tea at 5 once everyone's up
- Visiting hours from about 6 - 8:30 (my husband's grandmother still has people come by for a cup of tea and to chat; people come by more or less every day to pay their respects and have tea - it's actually a really nice custom I'd like to adopt...if I could just get the house clean enough I'm not embarrassed to have people over)
- Ragsy to bed around 8:30
- Dinner at 9
- Hang out and chat for an hour to an hour and a half
- Bed around 11 or 11:30
It was a really nice rhythm to get into. Actually, it was nice to have a predictable schedule period, given our earlier taste of India and the hectic pace we'd had everwhere else.
The last three or four nights we spent either going to other people's houses or having people over for dinner. We just tossed Ragsy on someone's bed in the evening after he'd eaten and grab him on our way out the door. He's a lot more portable than I ever expected, even at this age. I don't know whether it was because he was forced to be or if he's just a lot more laid back than I thought. But why look a gift horse (or kid) in the mouth?
After a nearly idyllic time in Rajkot, we left for six days in Bombay and the last segment of our trip. By the end of our stay in Rajkot, I was really looking forward to getting back home and working once more.
Things I learned in Rajkot:
1. I like to work. Even if it's just cleaning.
2. Kids in my husband's family are coddled and catered to to a ridiculous degree. Yes, after about 5 years old, a lot is expected of them intellectually and the pressure can be absolutely immense (my husband's best friend's kid is 3 and speaks 4 languages!), but still, as long as they're smart and do well in their studies, kids can get away with murder and no one will say anything against them. Case in point: my husband used to throw all his toys off the terrace or out the window. The servants were required to go get them. And he'd do it again. And they'd get them again. And he'd do it again. The same happened a couple of times with Ragsy until I caught him in the act. Then there were no more toys until they stopped going off the terrace.
3. Kids aren't watched very much in my husband's family. I sometimes have helicopter-parent syndrome and probably interfere and oversee my son too much, although far less so here at home than in other people's houses. However, my son almost fell off a balcony without any railing that happened to overlook a concrete courtyard at one point. I was in the bedroom and my husband was washing his hands while someone told us not to worry - that they would watch Ragsy. But no one bothered to follow him outside when he wandered toward the balcony and he almost stepped off.
4. Handwashing is a way of life. Seriously, when you eat with your hands, you really need to wash them before and after every meal. Lots of people have wash basins in their dining rooms because of this. It's just easier.
5. The caste system and the concept of royalty is not dead in India.
6. When you visit, people give you money. Just because you're there. If you happen to have brought a kid with you, they give you more. And if you're having a birthday, they give you even more. Very, very weird. But I would walk into a room sometimes when guests were over to tea and someone would put hand me an envelope with money in it. Then they came for my husband's birthday and gave him more - for his birthday and for Ragsy.
Anyway, we were sad to leave Rajkot, especially my husband, who was getting somewhat homesick for India while there. Life is very, very different there - much slower in the smaller towns, more relaxed and a lot more family-oriented. I can see why he would be homesick.
And, on to Bombay.
After our flight to Amedebad was cancelled, we finally had to leave Delhi, go to Bombay, fly into Amedebad and then drive from there to Rajkot. So, our 9 a.m. flight and anticipated arrival in Rajkot via Amedebad at noon turned into a midnight arrival. I have to say, Ragsy was absolutely wonderful. Even though he was dragged around constantly, forced to sleep in airports, airplanes and cars and his movement was limited most of the day, he was still relatively sweet and relaxed.
When we finally got to Rajkot just after midnight, we had to spend about 20 minutes waiting outside before we could enter the house since they apparently had to wake everyone up for a ceremony before we could come in. So, I sat with Ragsy in the car until about 12:30 when we were greeted at the door by all the servants, my husband's aunt and uncle, his Nanima (who had picked us up at the airport), two dogs and the driver.
The ceremony involved a lot of yelling, turmeric paste, rice and garlands. And photos. Lots of photos. It was a welcome unlike any I had ever experienced.
We went in and, after a couple of hours, managed to get Ragsy back to sleep. Since he'd been dragged all over India and had slept in the car on the way to Rajkot (except when we stopped at a roadside restaurant for dinner during which he understandably screamed his head off since he was tired), he was pretty wired. We finally calmed him down enough to sleep around 2:30 and went to bed around 3.
The next day was wonderful because we did nothing. In fact, that was kind of our MO in Rajkot. The pace of life is so different than anywhere else. Probably because my husband's family can afford it and they don't live in a big metropolis like Bombay.
We took a few day trips, one to the family fort and then on the way back visited cousins at their palace. Then a few days later, we went to the family temple and had a ceremony and lunch and went home. We also had a party for my husband's birthday and shopped a lot. But, for the most part, the eight days we spent there all had a similar structure:
- Wake up - everyone's usually up by 9:30, though one of us usually got up with Ragsy at 7:30
- Putz around until Ragsy's nap at noon
- Sit down to lunch at 1
- Putz around again for about an hour
- Afternoon nap for the adults around 3 (my husband and I took turns with Ragsy because he'd be up by this time)
- Coffee or tea at 5 once everyone's up
- Visiting hours from about 6 - 8:30 (my husband's grandmother still has people come by for a cup of tea and to chat; people come by more or less every day to pay their respects and have tea - it's actually a really nice custom I'd like to adopt...if I could just get the house clean enough I'm not embarrassed to have people over)
- Ragsy to bed around 8:30
- Dinner at 9
- Hang out and chat for an hour to an hour and a half
- Bed around 11 or 11:30
It was a really nice rhythm to get into. Actually, it was nice to have a predictable schedule period, given our earlier taste of India and the hectic pace we'd had everwhere else.
The last three or four nights we spent either going to other people's houses or having people over for dinner. We just tossed Ragsy on someone's bed in the evening after he'd eaten and grab him on our way out the door. He's a lot more portable than I ever expected, even at this age. I don't know whether it was because he was forced to be or if he's just a lot more laid back than I thought. But why look a gift horse (or kid) in the mouth?
After a nearly idyllic time in Rajkot, we left for six days in Bombay and the last segment of our trip. By the end of our stay in Rajkot, I was really looking forward to getting back home and working once more.
Things I learned in Rajkot:
1. I like to work. Even if it's just cleaning.
2. Kids in my husband's family are coddled and catered to to a ridiculous degree. Yes, after about 5 years old, a lot is expected of them intellectually and the pressure can be absolutely immense (my husband's best friend's kid is 3 and speaks 4 languages!), but still, as long as they're smart and do well in their studies, kids can get away with murder and no one will say anything against them. Case in point: my husband used to throw all his toys off the terrace or out the window. The servants were required to go get them. And he'd do it again. And they'd get them again. And he'd do it again. The same happened a couple of times with Ragsy until I caught him in the act. Then there were no more toys until they stopped going off the terrace.
3. Kids aren't watched very much in my husband's family. I sometimes have helicopter-parent syndrome and probably interfere and oversee my son too much, although far less so here at home than in other people's houses. However, my son almost fell off a balcony without any railing that happened to overlook a concrete courtyard at one point. I was in the bedroom and my husband was washing his hands while someone told us not to worry - that they would watch Ragsy. But no one bothered to follow him outside when he wandered toward the balcony and he almost stepped off.
4. Handwashing is a way of life. Seriously, when you eat with your hands, you really need to wash them before and after every meal. Lots of people have wash basins in their dining rooms because of this. It's just easier.
5. The caste system and the concept of royalty is not dead in India.
6. When you visit, people give you money. Just because you're there. If you happen to have brought a kid with you, they give you more. And if you're having a birthday, they give you even more. Very, very weird. But I would walk into a room sometimes when guests were over to tea and someone would put hand me an envelope with money in it. Then they came for my husband's birthday and gave him more - for his birthday and for Ragsy.
Anyway, we were sad to leave Rajkot, especially my husband, who was getting somewhat homesick for India while there. Life is very, very different there - much slower in the smaller towns, more relaxed and a lot more family-oriented. I can see why he would be homesick.
And, on to Bombay.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Delhi
I lost a little bit of steam last week and this week when my mom came to visit, but I'm trying to catch up on our India trip a bit.
After Madras, we flew to Delhi. We got there in the late afternoon, and it was a huge change. Where Madras was sticky, hot and tropical, Delhi was cool, dry and dusty. It was like leaving the jungle and entering Arabian Nights.
Ragsy was miserable on the drive to my husband's aunt and uncle's house. He screamed almost non-stop until he had guzzled no less than a half bottle of milk and two full bottles of water (yes, I tried to give him a cup; no, he wouldn't take it). He was delighted to be cooler and quieter when we got to the house and quickly began his attempts to destroy the flat, without much success.
After playing for a while and eating a little bit, he promptly passed out and had his first truly good night's sleep since we had gotten to India. The next day, we relaxed most of the morning then drove out to the country to someone's farm for a party. It was really nice - it was a catered affair outdoors with lots of younger kids, too, who played cricket on the lawn. It was oddly British feeling - sort of like having tea on the grounds. But at least Ragsy got an opportunity to relax and enjoy himself while playing in the dirt with other kids.
On the way back we stopped by Qutb Minar, which was absolutely beautiful at sunset. The next day, there was more putzing, then a stop by the India Gate. It was quite a while before we got back and the plan was originally to go to a New Year's Eve "bonfire" (which would probably have been like the country party), but Ragsy was too tired, so my husband, son and I sat it out while the adults went out, which was actually really nice. We got to relax, sleep and generally sit someplace quiet, which was the first time we'd had the opportunity for a week or so.
The day after that, we went to the Taj Mahal in Agra, which was just stunning. We managed to get into the Taj just before the gates closed at 5 p.m. and stayed until just after sunset. We got some absolutely beautiful photos, too, then went to a pretty decent place for dinner, then back to the hotel where we were staying, the Agra Club.
The Agra Club was an interesting place. It's supposed to be really exclusive and very hard to get a booking of any sort, but my husband's aunt knows a member who got us in for free. Which was very nice, but unfortunately, the Agra Club also has an issue with bedbugs (probably has something to do with the army-issue blankets they include in the hotel) and lots and lots of mosquitos. All of us slept fully clothed, but even though I slept in a pair of pants, socks, a shirt and fleece, I still got the crap bitten out of me. So did my son, though my husband seems to be impervious to bugs in India, particularly mosquitos. Anyway, we lubed up with Odomos, an industrial-strength mosquito repellant after that.
The next day, we went to Akbar's palace, Fatehpur, then to Salam Chisti's (one of Akbar's advisors) tomb. Both were absolutely spectacular, especially Fatehpur, which includes five palaces - one for each of Akbar's wives and one for Akbar himself. Salam Chisti's tomb was also gorgeous.
The next day, we started our drive back to Delhi, which took four or five hours. More putzing around, then we went shopping. The day after that there was more site-seeing, then more shopping, then an exhausted *flop* into bed. The day after that one we did even more site-seeing, then met one of uncle and auntie's sons for dinner.
Then the next day, it was off to Rajkot.
Lessons learned in Delhi:
Ragsy has a lot more stamina than even I realized. And he's a lot more patient. Even I was getting sick of being dragged around constantly by our ridiculously-energetic hosts, but Ragsy only had a problem when he was expected to sit down for dinner, which is usually not until after 9 p.m. and therefore way past his bedtime anyway.
I act older than I thought. See above regarding ridiculously-energetic hosts. Jeez - I'm half their age and already turning into an old fogey!
If you can make sure they're clean enough, roadside stands can have some really awesome food like puris and hot, sweet milk (which I really didn't care for, but wish I did because it had tons of sugar and spice in it).
Recycling in India is truly a way of life. Everyone reuses everything. And those things they don't reuse are often made out of biodegradeable material, like the cups and bowls used at the roadside stands, which are made out of clay (but not fired) and leaves, respectively.
Eating dinner early is a good thing. While I appreciate the freedom of eating a later dinner, it's just not worth it to my stomach or my sanity. The former gets upset by eating too much too late at night. The latter gets upset by my son, who screams when dinner is delayed so long and he's forced to stay up long enough to eat it.
So, there you go. Two more stops to go.
After Madras, we flew to Delhi. We got there in the late afternoon, and it was a huge change. Where Madras was sticky, hot and tropical, Delhi was cool, dry and dusty. It was like leaving the jungle and entering Arabian Nights.
Ragsy was miserable on the drive to my husband's aunt and uncle's house. He screamed almost non-stop until he had guzzled no less than a half bottle of milk and two full bottles of water (yes, I tried to give him a cup; no, he wouldn't take it). He was delighted to be cooler and quieter when we got to the house and quickly began his attempts to destroy the flat, without much success.
After playing for a while and eating a little bit, he promptly passed out and had his first truly good night's sleep since we had gotten to India. The next day, we relaxed most of the morning then drove out to the country to someone's farm for a party. It was really nice - it was a catered affair outdoors with lots of younger kids, too, who played cricket on the lawn. It was oddly British feeling - sort of like having tea on the grounds. But at least Ragsy got an opportunity to relax and enjoy himself while playing in the dirt with other kids.
On the way back we stopped by Qutb Minar, which was absolutely beautiful at sunset. The next day, there was more putzing, then a stop by the India Gate. It was quite a while before we got back and the plan was originally to go to a New Year's Eve "bonfire" (which would probably have been like the country party), but Ragsy was too tired, so my husband, son and I sat it out while the adults went out, which was actually really nice. We got to relax, sleep and generally sit someplace quiet, which was the first time we'd had the opportunity for a week or so.
The day after that, we went to the Taj Mahal in Agra, which was just stunning. We managed to get into the Taj just before the gates closed at 5 p.m. and stayed until just after sunset. We got some absolutely beautiful photos, too, then went to a pretty decent place for dinner, then back to the hotel where we were staying, the Agra Club.
The Agra Club was an interesting place. It's supposed to be really exclusive and very hard to get a booking of any sort, but my husband's aunt knows a member who got us in for free. Which was very nice, but unfortunately, the Agra Club also has an issue with bedbugs (probably has something to do with the army-issue blankets they include in the hotel) and lots and lots of mosquitos. All of us slept fully clothed, but even though I slept in a pair of pants, socks, a shirt and fleece, I still got the crap bitten out of me. So did my son, though my husband seems to be impervious to bugs in India, particularly mosquitos. Anyway, we lubed up with Odomos, an industrial-strength mosquito repellant after that.
The next day, we went to Akbar's palace, Fatehpur, then to Salam Chisti's (one of Akbar's advisors) tomb. Both were absolutely spectacular, especially Fatehpur, which includes five palaces - one for each of Akbar's wives and one for Akbar himself. Salam Chisti's tomb was also gorgeous.
The next day, we started our drive back to Delhi, which took four or five hours. More putzing around, then we went shopping. The day after that there was more site-seeing, then more shopping, then an exhausted *flop* into bed. The day after that one we did even more site-seeing, then met one of uncle and auntie's sons for dinner.
Then the next day, it was off to Rajkot.
Lessons learned in Delhi:
Ragsy has a lot more stamina than even I realized. And he's a lot more patient. Even I was getting sick of being dragged around constantly by our ridiculously-energetic hosts, but Ragsy only had a problem when he was expected to sit down for dinner, which is usually not until after 9 p.m. and therefore way past his bedtime anyway.
I act older than I thought. See above regarding ridiculously-energetic hosts. Jeez - I'm half their age and already turning into an old fogey!
If you can make sure they're clean enough, roadside stands can have some really awesome food like puris and hot, sweet milk (which I really didn't care for, but wish I did because it had tons of sugar and spice in it).
Recycling in India is truly a way of life. Everyone reuses everything. And those things they don't reuse are often made out of biodegradeable material, like the cups and bowls used at the roadside stands, which are made out of clay (but not fired) and leaves, respectively.
Eating dinner early is a good thing. While I appreciate the freedom of eating a later dinner, it's just not worth it to my stomach or my sanity. The former gets upset by eating too much too late at night. The latter gets upset by my son, who screams when dinner is delayed so long and he's forced to stay up long enough to eat it.
So, there you go. Two more stops to go.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Madras
On the 26th, my husband, Ragsy and I headed for Madras. One thing you'll notice on any flight within India (or at least on Jet Airways within India) is that you get full meal service with real china, napkins and silverware, even if it's considered a "snack." And the food is really good, too. Meals include an entree served with rice and often chapatis, too, plus yogurt, dessert, and fruit or salad, along with After Mint, candy, water, juice and coffee or tea. Snacks contain everything but the yogurt and I still haven't figured out why they're considered snacks.
But I digress.
So, we got to Madras the afternoon of the 26th, found my husband's grandfather's driver and headed to my grandfather-in-law's (we'll call him Tata now - it's what we all call him and it's a heck of a lot easier) flat. The weather was much hotter than Bombay - probably low to mid 90's and very humid. Most people in Madras are shorter and much darker than in the middle of the country. Many descend from the Dravidians, whose origin is unknown.
When we arrived at Tata's, Ragsy was starting to get uncomfortable in the heat. My husband's Tata rarely uses air conditioning and it's only available in the bedrooms anyway, so we were all sweating a lot. Which was no big deal for me and my husband, but for Ragsy that was apparently a problem. From the moment we arrived at Tata's to the moment he went to sleep there was more or less non-stop screaming. Not only was he hot, my husband's Tata is deaf so everyone in the house more or less yells when they speak. It's actually quite funny in retrospect. All these people so excited to see my son, getting into his face, yelling their hellos and him shrieking, "Mommy!" Then they'd try to take him away to distract him, which didn't go over well.
Anyway, things settled down, though Ragsy refused to eat anything unless it was dried fruit or biscuits that I had brought as snacks with us, eaten in the air-conditioned comfort of the bedroom.
That first day was tough - very tough - on all of us. Mostly on Ragsy, but kids can manage to make their bad day into everyone else's, too. Still, once Ragsy managed to go to sleep and we settled down a little, we had a wonderful meal of sambhar, poppard, rice and dahi (yogurt) with sweets.
The second day was even better. We didn't do a whole lot - mostly sat around and talked - but Ragsy at least stopped screaming quite as much (though not entirely) and got to run around a bit on the roof of Tata's building.
The third day was even better still. We went to the ruins of this beautiful old Hindu temple, Mahabalipuram. The place was fantastic. It was right next to the sea and covered in elaborate carvings of the gods. It also had a beautiful museum and shop next door. We had a great time visiting, then went to a restaurant called Woodlands that has some sister restaurants in the States and other locations in India. We went back and relaxed for a while and ate another metric ton of food for dinner, then passed out in a gluttonous stupor.
The next day, Tata insisted on buying me jewelry. Not that I hate jewelry, but it was pretty weird nonetheless. He was pretty fixated on the idea. So we went out and got jewelry. Then he bought me, my husband and Ragsy some clothes and we went out to lunch to Woodlands and came back.
We spent about three days in Madras. It was wonderful, but Ragsy continued to be pretty upset and clingy throughout the visit. He only made friends with Tata's caregiver at the end of the visit. She was absolutely delighted and so was I.
In Madras, he learned to say water in both Hindi and English. He also had his first sip of coffee (apparently kids are can have coffee as soon as they start drinking anything other than breastmilk; we were not too happy with that) and absolutely loved it, much to my chagrin. He also learned to say coffee, elevator, Tata and a few other words. He also learned that he loved to spin round and round in the middle of the elaborate symbols painted on Tata's living room and kitchen floors. He then used that knowledge to make offerings of gold chrysanthemums to the gods at the little shrine in the kitchen.
I wish I could do justice to our visit to India. I'm not and I hate it. Bombay was wonderful and chaotic; Madras was tropical and sweaty and beautiful and green. Our last morning there, before we got on our flight to Delhi, we went to an old temple site with a pond in front of it. The pond was full of catfish that flipped and flopped and slipped on top of each other to get the puffed sweet rice we threw them. Ragsy absolutely loved it.
What I learned in Madras (okay, this isn't everything I learned in Madras):
Ragsy doesn't like to sweat.
Caste is still alive and well, despite the fact that it's illegal.
Bedbug bites look similar to mosquito bites, but not exactly like them (yes, there's a whole other story behind that one).
But I digress.
So, we got to Madras the afternoon of the 26th, found my husband's grandfather's driver and headed to my grandfather-in-law's (we'll call him Tata now - it's what we all call him and it's a heck of a lot easier) flat. The weather was much hotter than Bombay - probably low to mid 90's and very humid. Most people in Madras are shorter and much darker than in the middle of the country. Many descend from the Dravidians, whose origin is unknown.
When we arrived at Tata's, Ragsy was starting to get uncomfortable in the heat. My husband's Tata rarely uses air conditioning and it's only available in the bedrooms anyway, so we were all sweating a lot. Which was no big deal for me and my husband, but for Ragsy that was apparently a problem. From the moment we arrived at Tata's to the moment he went to sleep there was more or less non-stop screaming. Not only was he hot, my husband's Tata is deaf so everyone in the house more or less yells when they speak. It's actually quite funny in retrospect. All these people so excited to see my son, getting into his face, yelling their hellos and him shrieking, "Mommy!" Then they'd try to take him away to distract him, which didn't go over well.
Anyway, things settled down, though Ragsy refused to eat anything unless it was dried fruit or biscuits that I had brought as snacks with us, eaten in the air-conditioned comfort of the bedroom.
That first day was tough - very tough - on all of us. Mostly on Ragsy, but kids can manage to make their bad day into everyone else's, too. Still, once Ragsy managed to go to sleep and we settled down a little, we had a wonderful meal of sambhar, poppard, rice and dahi (yogurt) with sweets.
The second day was even better. We didn't do a whole lot - mostly sat around and talked - but Ragsy at least stopped screaming quite as much (though not entirely) and got to run around a bit on the roof of Tata's building.
The third day was even better still. We went to the ruins of this beautiful old Hindu temple, Mahabalipuram. The place was fantastic. It was right next to the sea and covered in elaborate carvings of the gods. It also had a beautiful museum and shop next door. We had a great time visiting, then went to a restaurant called Woodlands that has some sister restaurants in the States and other locations in India. We went back and relaxed for a while and ate another metric ton of food for dinner, then passed out in a gluttonous stupor.
The next day, Tata insisted on buying me jewelry. Not that I hate jewelry, but it was pretty weird nonetheless. He was pretty fixated on the idea. So we went out and got jewelry. Then he bought me, my husband and Ragsy some clothes and we went out to lunch to Woodlands and came back.
We spent about three days in Madras. It was wonderful, but Ragsy continued to be pretty upset and clingy throughout the visit. He only made friends with Tata's caregiver at the end of the visit. She was absolutely delighted and so was I.
In Madras, he learned to say water in both Hindi and English. He also had his first sip of coffee (apparently kids are can have coffee as soon as they start drinking anything other than breastmilk; we were not too happy with that) and absolutely loved it, much to my chagrin. He also learned to say coffee, elevator, Tata and a few other words. He also learned that he loved to spin round and round in the middle of the elaborate symbols painted on Tata's living room and kitchen floors. He then used that knowledge to make offerings of gold chrysanthemums to the gods at the little shrine in the kitchen.
I wish I could do justice to our visit to India. I'm not and I hate it. Bombay was wonderful and chaotic; Madras was tropical and sweaty and beautiful and green. Our last morning there, before we got on our flight to Delhi, we went to an old temple site with a pond in front of it. The pond was full of catfish that flipped and flopped and slipped on top of each other to get the puffed sweet rice we threw them. Ragsy absolutely loved it.
What I learned in Madras (okay, this isn't everything I learned in Madras):
Ragsy doesn't like to sweat.
Caste is still alive and well, despite the fact that it's illegal.
Bedbug bites look similar to mosquito bites, but not exactly like them (yes, there's a whole other story behind that one).
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Arrival in India and our first visit in Bombay.
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.
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.
Sunday, January 20, 2008
I'm back and we're all dead tired.
After a 17-hour flight (during which Ragsy slept a total of 6-7 hours; consequently, I've found out that I'm a lot more patient than I thought since Ragsy insisted on sleeping and sitting on me constantly and there were no extra seats), a 10-hour layover and another three-hour flight, we arrived back in St. Louis at 6:30 p.m. last night. It was wonderful to get back, though it's somewhat anticlimactic when you haven't slept in more that 36 hours and your house is 55 degrees and you need to go to the supermarket immediately because your son is hungry and you have one egg and stale bread in the fridge.
I have so much to say, but I'm tired again, so I'll have to try tomorrow. Ragsy and I are still adjusting to the new time zone (St. Louis is about 11 and a half hours behind Bombay). My son was up bright and early this morning at 1:30 and again at 6. Which turned out to be okay because I woke up at 4:45 and couldn't go back to sleep, either, so I took over and my husband slept in. So now I'm feeling pretty dead. It doesn't help that I'm hopped up on Motrin and cold medicine because I'm still trying to shake this rotten cold I got in Bombay.
Nonetheless, we had a wonderful, wonderful time. I'm sure you'll get tired of hearing about it. I'm still looking forward to working tomorrow, though - I'm not a rigidly scheduled person, but some structure is good. Oh, well. Enough rambling. Bedtime.
I have so much to say, but I'm tired again, so I'll have to try tomorrow. Ragsy and I are still adjusting to the new time zone (St. Louis is about 11 and a half hours behind Bombay). My son was up bright and early this morning at 1:30 and again at 6. Which turned out to be okay because I woke up at 4:45 and couldn't go back to sleep, either, so I took over and my husband slept in. So now I'm feeling pretty dead. It doesn't help that I'm hopped up on Motrin and cold medicine because I'm still trying to shake this rotten cold I got in Bombay.
Nonetheless, we had a wonderful, wonderful time. I'm sure you'll get tired of hearing about it. I'm still looking forward to working tomorrow, though - I'm not a rigidly scheduled person, but some structure is good. Oh, well. Enough rambling. Bedtime.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
I never call, I never write.
Okay, so I'm still in India, Rajkot to be specific. We've had a wonderful time here so far and are continuing to do so. I'll write more details later - right now both my husband and son are taking an afternoon nap. We've been here for about five or six days and will be headed back to Bombay day after tomorrow. The flight over here and the all the flights we've taken within India have been remarkably smooth. So much so that I'm waiting for an all-out meltdown on the way back to the States. What kid remains calm on a 15-hour flight, 9 hours of which they're wide awake?
Still, we've only had mini-meltdowns so far, even though it took Ragsy about a week to get into a schedule again where he was sleeping more than four hours at a time. Which is saying a lot because, until we got to Rajkot, we'd been traveling somewhere by plane or car every two days.
So far, we've been to:
Bombay
Madras (Chennai)
Delhi
Agra
Back to Bombay
Amedebad
Rajkot
Tomorrow we'll take a day trip to Champrajpur.
I've only spoken the primary language in Bombay, so I've spent a lot of time either listening intently and learning either Gujurati, Tamil or Hindi or having the conversation flow around me. Ragsy is having a wonderful time - not getting quite as spoiled as we feared. And his speaking skills have truly bloomed. He says grandfather and grandmother in Tamil and Hindi respectively and great-grandmother in Gujurati. He's picked up a couple of other Hindi and Gujurati words plus started saying four-syllable English words and near whole sentences and actually communicating with us when he wants us to go somewhere instead of pointing. And if I don't get it, he'll actually grab my hand and take me there. Maybe he just needed the new experiences to jar his brain. He's certainly had them.
Unfortunately, being in a new place has made him very clingy, which is totally understandable. Also, I get stared at...a LOT. Not so much in Bombay, but since we got to Rajkot, I've had a few people stop, point and stare. Very, very weird.
I'm loving it here, but I'm looking forward to getting back. Things I want to do:
SHAVE (I've been advised not to due to water-borne diseases that can be picked up through nicks and cuts in the shower; therefore, I am become yeti, long-haired monster)
Sleep on a soft bed (most Indian beds are basically a 1- to 2-inch cushion on a wood platform; good for the back, but not if you have a toddler trying to climb on you to find somewhere soft to sleep)
Eat a steak (cows are sacred here - you see them walking around in the streets, but you can't eat 'em)
Cook and clean (every household I've been to has servants; it's nice, but I'm not used to calling someone from the kitchen to pass me a plate)
Work (if I lived here, I would have more substantial hobbies than I can take advantage of right now)
Well, I'm off to check up on the boys. It's the husband's birthday today. We're having a "small" to-do (with 20 people and a hired cook) and I need to get cleaned up.
Still, we've only had mini-meltdowns so far, even though it took Ragsy about a week to get into a schedule again where he was sleeping more than four hours at a time. Which is saying a lot because, until we got to Rajkot, we'd been traveling somewhere by plane or car every two days.
So far, we've been to:
Bombay
Madras (Chennai)
Delhi
Agra
Back to Bombay
Amedebad
Rajkot
Tomorrow we'll take a day trip to Champrajpur.
I've only spoken the primary language in Bombay, so I've spent a lot of time either listening intently and learning either Gujurati, Tamil or Hindi or having the conversation flow around me. Ragsy is having a wonderful time - not getting quite as spoiled as we feared. And his speaking skills have truly bloomed. He says grandfather and grandmother in Tamil and Hindi respectively and great-grandmother in Gujurati. He's picked up a couple of other Hindi and Gujurati words plus started saying four-syllable English words and near whole sentences and actually communicating with us when he wants us to go somewhere instead of pointing. And if I don't get it, he'll actually grab my hand and take me there. Maybe he just needed the new experiences to jar his brain. He's certainly had them.
Unfortunately, being in a new place has made him very clingy, which is totally understandable. Also, I get stared at...a LOT. Not so much in Bombay, but since we got to Rajkot, I've had a few people stop, point and stare. Very, very weird.
I'm loving it here, but I'm looking forward to getting back. Things I want to do:
SHAVE (I've been advised not to due to water-borne diseases that can be picked up through nicks and cuts in the shower; therefore, I am become yeti, long-haired monster)
Sleep on a soft bed (most Indian beds are basically a 1- to 2-inch cushion on a wood platform; good for the back, but not if you have a toddler trying to climb on you to find somewhere soft to sleep)
Eat a steak (cows are sacred here - you see them walking around in the streets, but you can't eat 'em)
Cook and clean (every household I've been to has servants; it's nice, but I'm not used to calling someone from the kitchen to pass me a plate)
Work (if I lived here, I would have more substantial hobbies than I can take advantage of right now)
Well, I'm off to check up on the boys. It's the husband's birthday today. We're having a "small" to-do (with 20 people and a hired cook) and I need to get cleaned up.
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