Testing

I wrote a new blog called "Today was the craziest day of my life" Actually, that wasn't the name at all, I haven't come up with a pithy name, but that was the first sentence. I have no idea why it didn't take. Maybe my toothy before shot freaked the powers that be.

Naina. Naina. Naina!

How I love Naina. What a sweetlove. Naina babysits for my niece Moy. She also just landed a job at Karuna Vihar, the school my boys go to. I see her everyday. She doesn't speak much English, and of course, I don't speak much Hindi. She knows a lot of basic English however and is forever teaching me the Hindi for it. I won't even try to spell its Hindi counterpart but she has taught me "How are you?" "I am fine" "Hot" "Cold" "Sad" "Happy" "Small" "Big" "Bad" "Good" "Thank You" There really are no words for "Please" and "Your Welcome" It is all in your delivery.

Naina loves the boys and the boys love her. About a month ago she invited us to her home. She lives near the gorgeous Tea Gardens. This place is beyond belief. Gorgeous. Gorgeous. Gorgeous. We walked to her house. We walked past the Tea Gardens , past beautiful homes, and she kept saying to me, "My home. Small, My home. Small" We turned down a lane and got to her little "village" It was another world. All eyes were on us. Naina looked so proud. It was funny. Proud of me and my little imps?! Well, she was.

Her mother greeted us at the door and had chai and special sweets that she had been preparing all day. It was a 2 room hut. It was immaculately clean. The bathroom (with its squat toilet-that the boys LOVED)was outside. Naina's mother is battling Cancer and it worries Naina to no end. These are 2 of the most welcoming women that I have ever met. It was late when we left, both the boys wanted to sleep over.

About 2 weeks ago the boys and I took Naina into town to shop, have lunch, get my nose pierced, you know , the usual. It was Sunday morning. We met her at her house at around 10:45. Owen, Enzo and I walked through the Tea Gardens and came into the village from the back entrance. Like the pied piper, we were followed to her gate by 20 or so children, all freshly scrubbed and in their Sunday best. There they are, at her gate. I wish I had gotten the picture of her shutting the gate! My camera was in need of new batteries. I had some in my bag, but I was too late. Drat. It could have been an award winning series.

So we got a rickshaw into town, something that she never does. We rarely do it either. It is so lazy. A rickshaw is between 80 and 100 rupees and a vickram (shared ride) is 4 rupees! Oh wait! you have to walk an extra 4 blocks. The horror. Today was an important day. I wanted to make it as special as possible for Naina. So we got to town and walked around the marketplace. I wanted to buy Naina a suit. A Salwar Kameez. We went to several stores. Naina couldn't actually believe that this was happening. Most of the suits that Naina buys are about 200 to 300 rupees a piece. I wanted to get her a really ornate one for about 1200 or 1500 rupees. Honest to God, that isn't much at 44 rupees to the dollar. Do the math. I come out looking like the hero for a song!

She was really really surprised when I ABSOLUTELY INSISTED! I felt like some crazy rich Aunt, which I am not. It was gorgeous, and she was so thrilled! Can you imagine MY joy? Unbelievable. So so easy. So little can mean so much.

Next up, lunch. We took her to this really nice restaurant called "Kumar's Vegetarian" Delicious. Naina took one look at the menu and said, "Didi, Cold Coffee only" I was like "WHAT? I am taking you out to LUNCH!, ORDER!" (N.B. The entire bill was $11.00 US for 4 of us. It is easy to look like a big shot at this exchange.)

Reluctantly (I am not kidding) she ordered. We feasted like kings. The food was so incredible. After the waiter took our order, she looked around and got a little teary. She said, "Didi. Me. Restaurant. Never" and she held up one finger. "First time" She is 23 years old. The boys looked at her in utter disbelief. She said, "I am simple girl" She is awesome girl.

Pressing Business

Azad is the greatest. I'd give him the shirt off my back. His business is one of the many,many little luxuries that India has to offer. Door to door laundry service!

My maidservant Dwatika had been doing it, even when I pleaded with her not too. We cannot understand each other to save our lives.I literally threw my body on top of a pile of dirty laundry in order to illustrate my directive. I wasn't clear enough.


I am never there when she arrives in the morning. I walk the boys to school and go over to my sister's house for coffee. By the time I get there, it is too late. All the clothes are soaking in this pasty blue chalky water. Every morning it was the same thing, I would try to take over, she would yell, "No Didi No". Then she would get to work. She is kind of a toughie. When she said, "No Didi No" she really meant it.

Her hand is still not right from that sugar caning press accident. I didn't want her doing my clothes, not only that, she did a horrible job. Owen was getting rashes, and I could see unwashed blue streaks running down pant legs. She was so afraid that I wasn't going to pay her the agreed upon monthly salary if she didn't do everything. Hilarious. She could do nothing at all (which is kind of what it looks like she does) and I would still pay her. She spends an hour every morning out in my yard burning things. That alone is worth the price of admission.

One night I was at my sister's house and Azad came by to pick up their laundry, and to drop off the washed and ironed ones. All those visions of amazingly pressed clothes came back to me! I loved sending my clothes out last time I was here! Azad would solve all my problems. Jo spoke to Dwatika, and assured her that her salary would not change.

For 5 rupees a garment (Jo gets hers done for 3 rupees because they are "Azad's family" somehow, I squeak in at 5, but most people are charged 10). I promise you, you would pay any price when you saw the condition that they are returned in.

He has a 25 pound iron! I send him off with a huge sheet full of rumpled clothes and he returns with a stack of neatly ironed garments the size of one thin dime. Everything. The first time I sent my stuff out, my underwear and socks came back pressed. That was embarrassing,and only happened once. I keep that stuff home now(hidden from Dwatika). I felt like an idiot getting the unmentionables ironed.

Azad took over the business from his father. I remember his father from 1992. I was saddened but not surprised to learn that Azad's father had been killed in a motorcycle accident. The load you see Azad with is a small one. I see him motorbiking all over Vasant Vihar Enclave pushing it to the limit with his massive hauls.

If I just need something pressed quickly, I can run down the street to the open air press wallah. Behind him is the chai stall so I can sit around and have a cup of tea while I wait. The whole thing usually sets me back 30 cents US.

Today was the craziest day that I think I have ever had period. It went from bad to worse. It was nuts.

First of all let me explain. I will post before,during(if I dare, they are ghastly)and after of my teeth. I have always hated the gap between my 2 front teeth. It developed about 2 years ago and I really despise it. I quit smiling, I am not kidding.


I did a little research online and found "The Perfect Smile" Dental Clinic. Google "Vaneers Dehradun, India" and it will be the first place that pops up. (So much for shopping around.)... I actually did shop around once I got here. They seemed like the best. Their website must really suck you in, I kept harkening back to it. Uh, you should see the clinic. I attach a visual.
What have I done?! has become my mantra.

My Day. The Craziest Day that I have ever had, period.: Such a long story. About 2 weeks ago I was in Pultan's Bazaar. I saw this beautiful 9 or 10 year old rag picking girl. I remember her because she has one blue eye and one brown eye and she is gorgeous. I tried to take her picture but she kept holding her bag in front of her face. I put the camera down and made eye contact again. She felt way less threatened and asked me for "subji". I was looking for a place that sold food, I was really excited to buy her a meal. These rag pickers are NOT beggars. They never ask for money. She said "subji" but then she pointed to ice cream. Two of her friends miraculously appeared. I bought all three of them cones, the cone wallah was disgusted with me. I wanted to punch him. Jerk. I thought it would be a great picture, all of them with their cones but they ran away. Pultan Bazaar is about 15 minutes by rickshaw and 25 by vickram from Vasant Vihar Enclave.

Back to my crazy day. I had dropped the boys off at school, gone over to my sister's house to meet my father and her for a trip into town. I still can't believe my sister Jo DRIVES these unforgiving streets. I have begun praying again. Just for her.

So we start off, it is the tenth day of the fast for Dusherra. People are gathering at Temples, they are hungry and snappy. As we drove down a side road that connects up with the main one, we got stopped by something impeding our progress (this happens a lot). I saw a picture. I saw a cow. I saw a fight about to break out. I saw it all. I pulled my camera out and forgot my brand new lens cap was in place. I popped the zoom lens out the window, and my cap fell into the street. This was the beginning of my day.

Jo had to stop for petrol(gas,to you Americans) around the corner. I decided to go back for my lens cap. As I went back I saw my blue eyed brown eyed gal. She and I startled each other. I recognized her and she recognized me. We were so far removed from where we usually see each other. I snapped her photo, she was candid.She was gorgeous. She was the one starting the fight. She is something.

After shopping, we picked the boys up from school and ate lunch at Jo's. Off to Latika Vihar with the boys. I stopped at the corner store (there is a much better Indian name for it) to buy the boys and myself some Bisleri water. I was wearing a small purse like knapsack,I pulled out my wallet to pay the man, and then I was distracted by the children,there were people behind me, it may have been stolen then,it would have been easy.
However, as I was walking away with the boys a woman stepped out of the temple and waved to me, and said something. I looked at her and said, "Me?"as I pointed to myself. She said something else and then she motioned for me to go away.

My wallet is missing and I had just gone to the bank to withdraw 15,000 rupees to pay my last installment at the dentist. I had my grand finale appointment tonight. I had a total of 17,000 rupees in that missing wallet. Along with the money there is my Rhode Island driver's license and my credit/debit card. At least I still have my passport, ahem.

I didn't discover my wallet missing until I had gone home to retrieve 2 sari pieces that need to be made into blouses. I was off to the tailor and then to my dental appointment. I was so excited. I looked all over the house, nowhere. My sweet housemate, Bridget and I turned over the furniture. I ran to Jo's thinking I left it there when I stopped by after dropping the boys off. Nowhere. Jo was home and I was in full panic mode.

She was so calm. She told me story after story of her leaving things behind and finding them all! We raced down the street and retraced all my steps. She was stopping everyone and speaking in Hindi. Everyone was all a titter. It caused quite a stir. The little corner where I last saw it is a funny little place. There is the corner store of course, and this little tea stall where they press clothes and sell those weird pan or betal nut chew that makes all that enjoy it teeth rot out of their head. There is also a very curious gift shop that sells total junk. Next to the gift shop is the tailor who hasn't been open since I wanted to go. I have seen it open at all hours of the day for weeks and now that I have a few things to alter, they are never open! I was on my way to another tailor.
The temple is at the end, it is some big 10 day festival. So there were lots of people at the temple chanting. Now,I knew one of them had beckoned to me at around the time I first lost my wallet, so I wanted to know what that was all about.

You can't just walk in on a prayer service. They were chanting, beating drums, and one by one they got up and performed a solo dance act in the middle of all the chanting ladies. I would have really enjoyed watching, if I wasn't just a wee uptight.

Jo was pretty sure that it could go on for hours and we should canvass the neighborhood and recheck both our houses. So we went back home. Naina was bringing the boys home from Latika Vihar. When we got home, Ravi, his 94 year old mother,Mummy her 84 year old sister,Masiji, my father, Shelley,the volunteer from America, and Vickram the all around man at the house were all looking grim. I can't believe this really happened.

In walk Naina and the boys. The boys could not have been more dirty if I stuck them in the mud with the market hogs. Today was "pottery" day at Latika Vihar and it truly looked like they had been molded out of clay. Their faces, their clothes, each of them proudly displaying their hilariously shapened pots in their hands.

The plan was that Jo was going to watch the boys while I got a rickshaw into town for my final dentist appointment. I have this plastic cast on my teeth as a temporary. It makes me look like Minnie Mouse. I also have NO MONEY to go to my dentist appointment. It was funny if you thought about it. Jo of course lent me the money, but before she went to the ATM we made one more last ditch effort at the temple. This time the boys came. The ladies were still chanting away. One of them said something to me, she was far away and I couldn't recognize her.

We waited and waited because we kept being told it was almost over but then the spirit would move one of them and the chanting started up again. At one point a young boy walked in and handed the loudest one a microphone which she didn't need.

Jo spotted a priest from the temple. He came over, seeing our distress. Jo translated back and forth between us. Then he pulled out a little flip notepad and pen and said, "number". Well, I obviously thought that he wanted our phone number in case anything turned up. Jo turned to me and said 'You give it". I was baffled. Jo's number is long and I seldom call it because I am always over there. Then Jo said "just say anyone" Still I didn't get it, I thought that she was treating him like some unwanted pick up in a bar or something, and that she was going to make up a number!

Then she said "7" He drew a square,made an x through it and then drew a line horizontally through the middle of the x then he wrote the numbers 1 through 9 I think,and circled 7. He turned to me and said that I had a 75% chance of finding my wallet. Namaste.

He gave Jo permission to address the ladies. When there was a lull in the chanting she took off her shoes and went inside. There were about 50 or 60 women sitting there in their beautiful saris. She addressed them in Hindi and everyone pretty much said "nei" in unison. I HAD to get to my dentist appointment.

I tried one last thing. I went into the queer little gift shop and asked in my limited way if anyone had seen a wallet, a purse, money, rupees". The clerk looked at me brightly, my heart quickened, she walked over to me and pulled some purses down from the wall behind me.

Plan B: Jo dropped the boys and me at my house so that I could hose them down while she went to the ATM machine. My housemate ,ironically named "Bridget Clay", was there looking glum (everyone looked glum.Glum is the word) having searched some more in my absence. I got the boys washed and changed in 10 minutes flat and ran outside to see if Jo was there. She was, she gave me a wad of 500 rupee notes that I shoved into my bag without the aid of a wallet. I jumped in the car with the boys and she raced me to the rickshaw stand. "Tilak Road please?" I shouted.It was dark. I jumped into the back and he sped away. I had forgotten my camera, my ipod, and my book. Turns out I could have used all three.

I love riding around in the back of rickshaws listening to music. We hit this massive traffic jam, so my driver did the most illegal, dangerous, death defying U-turn that I have ever seen much less been party to (I am talking by INDIAN standards too). We went down this side alley that hooked up with the main road MILES down the street. It was dirt, or under construction or something,he was going excrusiatingly slow. This might have been charming any other time but I was already 20 minutes
late for my dentist's appointment and nowhere near the place. When we got to Tilak Road there was a big festival blocking traffic so I had to get out and sprint the last 2 blocks. If I had my camera, I would have been even later. I missed so many amazing photos.

Then I remembered my tailor, this guy was making my curtains, different from the other tailor who sews womens suits and sari blouses. He was closing up, he saw me and beckoned me over. I couldn't say no. He did a wonderful job. Four floor length curtains with tie backs (I supplied the material) for 100 rupees! That is $2.50 U.S.!

I was officially late for my appointment. Like, 45 minutes late. He was seeing another patient and the waiting room was full. I really wished for my book. I waited for about another 45 minutes and a really really fat middle aged couple walked out, and he called a young girl in. I thought,I am in hell. What have I done?
His assistant finally walked out. He saw me and went back in, while this girl was in the chair I was called in. Not a good sign. "There was a delay in Delhi. You come back tomorrow."

I went outside, I couldn't find a rickshaw for blocks. I walked that congested street,leaping out of the way of mopeds,maruti mini vans, cows, subji wallahs all the way down to the main road clutching a bag of money.