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 shopping...at 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.