Mar 13, 2012

Last week we planned to take a day off of school, and head out to shop--just the girls and me.  Then I got sick.  I was in bed for 3 days with a fever and I ached everywhere.  I was just plain miserable.  I have some lingering congestion in my chest, but otherwise I am back to normal.  So, we took today for our little rendezvous.   Normally, in the States, I can dedicate an entire day to least pre-surgery I could.  Now, I can do at least four hours (with a meal out) before I get all buzzy and need the solace of my home.  Here in India, I find my max is two hours, and at the end of the two I feel like I have been through some version of  hell.  I am totally frazzled, exhausted, overstimulated, and in need of my bed.

The poverty can really get to me.  There are different degrees of poorness, and today I found myself surprisingly annoyed at a well dressed and seemingly well fed girl who kept grabbing my arm and asking for money after I had given her a fruit bar, and literally the next minute in a state of extreme grief  and dizzying helplessness after coming upon a sickly, scrawny woman curled up on the street corner with a baby sitting in front of her.  I looked around for some food to buy her, but there was nothing, so I embarrassedly gave her a fruit bar.   After seeing the woman, I wanted to take the girls home, and call it quits.  This was not what I had in mind for a girl's day out.  India's reality stinks.  

We found ourselves in a neat shop that appeared small, but opened up to a larger store in the back, and an upstairs too.  We all found treasures--things to gift, and things to keep.  It was a success, until my purse knocked a wooden box off of the counter causing the lid to shatter.   I offered to buy it, but they were gracious, as we were buying half of their merchandise anyway.  ;-)

After we left with our parcels, I reached for my phone to call our driver, and my phone was dead.  We walked the length of the street 2 1/2 times looking for our van to no avail.  I do not have any phone numbers memorized, and I did not think to ask Makaela (who has every number in the entire world memorized), so we caught a rickshaw.  Thank goodness for rickshaws and honest rickshaw drivers-- who are a miracle in and of themselves.

We arrived home, and I had Andrew call our driver to tell him that we were back at the hotel.  :-) The driver had parked one street over, as he could not find a space on MG Road.  This seemingly small decision on his part, created a day that the girls and I shall not soon forget.   


Barbara said...

I think you need to go to Idaho; sit in a lounge chair and stare at the mountains. You may occasionally hear a tractor cutting alfalfa or barley, but that's about the only sound to interrupt your Zen moment.

Leigh said...

I'm hoping we can all meet in Idaho for a non-indian experience together. It is hard to remember what it is like to not have background noise...or to be somewhere where the closest neighbour or human being is more than 10 feet away.

Our Family said...

I will defintely meet you ladies in Idaho this summer if possible. Thank you for the invite. It sounds lovely!!!