That Is Not Pizza

Monday July 23'2012


12:12pm
Sitting in the living room, sipping chai that was given to me last in the company of three men, I can feel my blood begin to boil in this male dominated country. It didn't really bother me at first, it was more just surprising than anything. But the longer I am here, the more I am annoyed. Men are served first, men are spoken to, men participate women observe, men get 90 percent of the metro, women get 8 (not even 10 because men will still try to get on the lady's cart). Or maybe I'm just pissed off because today I won a draw for a 7 day five star vacation to Sri Lanka or Thailand from my Food Bazaar but can't claim it because I don't have a husband. Bullshit. Because I am not legally bound to a man I can't holiday in Sri Lanka. Fuck you Food Bazaar. Don't sell western food if you're not going to play by western rules. If you weren't so cute and convenient, I'd boycott the shit out of you. 


Last night I treated the house to a traditional Canadian date night. Pizza and a movie. Raj, Eddie, Akshee, Akanksha (no-name has a name now) and I all went to Pizza Hut! You have no idea how much I've been craving a good solid slice of pizza these days. But of course, this was no standard pizza hut. There would be no meat lovers, no hawaiian, but chicken tikka, and paneer el rancho...? This brought great sadness to me. Finally a piece of home and I still don't know what half the menu is. And everyone at the table is yammering over the menu in hindi, so for a girl treating everyone to "my people's" food, I just sat silently and let them call the shots (that took strength). After hearing their bizarre order, I had to break my silence. AND A CHEESE PIZZA PLEASE! (knowing pepperoni wasn't going to fly at this table). Two appetizers, a weird pasta salad, A giant cheesy bite crusted pizza, my cheese pizza, and five drinks all for $27.00. I fed (till we were full) five people for $27.00. Except the pizza had corn on it. This is why I need to come home. As we were leaving Pizza Hut, the manager came out and gave me one of their individual pasta bowls. Eddie had secretly asked him for a souvenir for me to take home. So now I have a Pizza Hut bowl from Delhi. But I'll be damned if corn even so much as touches the thing.
To end our western inspired evening, I took everyone to see The Dark Knight Rises. Five tickets, $19.00. For $46.00, I bought five people dinner and a movie. That means movie tickets here are less than $4.00 a piece. Josh, you would be in Heaven. The movie was the best I'd seen all year, the best I'd seen in a long time actually. Amazing. If Christopher Nolan can bring the sexy out of Anne Hathaway, there is nothing he can't do. I stayed silent the whole way home. They guys tend to discuss things into the ground and I didn't want to ruin my cinema high. I actually really wished my brother was with me for that one. He knows the proper way to execute a post film discussion. Besides, I was still trying to comprehend the sudden drop dead handsomeness of Joseph Gordon-Levitt. When did this happen? How long have I been in a foreign country, out of touch with reality and rising hollywood hunks?




Wednesday July 25'2012


11:30am
I am dying again. Pretty sure it's the plague from the metro priest. Losing your voice poses a challenge when your job is to teach 40 student classes all day long. And I have a really hard time trusting the 'pharmacies' here. First of all I saw one that was spelled 'Farmacy'. Secondly, there is no such thing as prescription medication, it's all over the counter. And considering that here, stores will refill old shampoo bottles with random shit and sell them as Pantene, or refill water bottles with tap water and sell it as purified (basically killing all white people) who knows what the hell would be in my Nyquil? Probably the real Pantene. Like musical bottles. 


Mukesh and I got in our first fight yesterday. We bicker now. It's cute. He swore my class was at 4:15 yesterday even though I KNEW it was at 4:30. Nope, he was right (typical). You're wrong Mukesh. Sure enough, my class was at 4:30 and we were 45 minutes early. So like any woman, I gloated all the way to my next location over the fact that I was right and he was wrong. And that that was strike one for Mukesh. Two more and he's fired. He looks at me and says "Ravy?" with a big smug grin on his face. And that's all he has to say (Ravy is 'it'). 

Holy House Fire Batman

Sunday July 22'2012


12:00pm
Last night I actually managed to stay awake long enough to see Eddie come home from work (this is a first since I've been here). Alright! I'm up! I'm conscious, let's do things! So to India Gate we went. India Gate is basically a giant park surrounding a monument built to remember and respect past war heros. The bricks that make the gate are all engraved with the names of the deceased soldiers. Bet you didn't know that, did you? No, you did not. You are not in India. And if you did, well whatever. No one likes a know it all. But that's getting ahead of ourselves. Upon arrival, Eddie purchased a pair of light up devil horns from a small boy in front of the park for me (I have a photo with said boy in our matching horns). These sorts of vendors flood the park. Glow sticks, cotton candy, bouncy balls, balloons, and devil horns. Everywhere. At 1:00am, I had no idea India gate was such a night life kind of place (but I'm guessing you know it alls did, didn't you). People were everywhere, just like the glow sticks. Young and old (the people, not the glow sticks. Although...) People picnicking in the park, kids playing, couples sucking face. It as beautiful. And then there was chuski. I had been told about this chuski before we had arrived. Chuski is like a snow cone on a stick that sits in a cup of flavoured sugar syrup, mine was black current. And you suck. You suck until the syrup's gone, then re-dip and suck some more. Suck. Dip. Suck. Dip. By the time you are finished, your tongue is numb and bright red and you're on such a sugar high that the Indian Gate is actually vibrating, and bouncing over police blockades. Ok, maybe that was me doing the vibrating and bouncing, but same thing. Regardless, it's delicious, like everything here. ALMOST everything (fucking paan). We walked down the long road until we came to the gate. It was alright. Behind it was another structure. Raj didn't know what this one was called, officially, but to him it was known as India's Dick. Yes. And offended or not, if you saw this thing you would be forced to agree. It looks like a hollowed out penis. Apparently it used to have a statue of some british founder or settler or something standing in it, but with India's independence it was torn down. And has left behind an empty penis. Not gonna lie, the henis (hollow penis) was a lot more fascinating than India Gate. Personally. Although, if you look through the gate you can see the henis perfectly so maybe if you considered the gate as a vagina's eye view it could perhaps be more interesting. And a lot more entertaining. 
On the way back to the car, a little 3 foot Indian woman started speaking to me in hindi. Sorry lady, unless you're vulgarly insulting me , I got nothing. Raj replies for me, they go back and forth for a while and then I get, Do you want henna? Uh, Yeah! So she plops me down on the side of the road, bum on curb, grabs my hand and away she goes. This woman is a pro. Both hands, front and back in less than 5 minutes. And I'm talking about some intricate shit here. Raj says something in hindi, the woman laughs, 2 seconds later I have "Raj" written in henna on the top of my hand amidst the swirls and circles and magical prints. RAJ. 


3:41pm
Now for today. Today was unreal. Today was one of those days when I find it very hard to wrap my brain around the fact that I am living in India. Today I participated in a Puja. A Puja is a hindu ceremony meant to bring prosperity to those living in the house it is performed in. You all gather in a room, legs folded on the floor (this is a must, you will be in trouble if you stretch your legs even for a second. Trust me.) all surrounding a priest. The men in front, women behind. Shocking. The men of the house place a variety of offerings on a silver plate for various gods (flowers, fruit, rice, paint, water, money, some foreign brown something) Then everyone gets blessed, or at least I think that's what was done to me... The men are given rice in their right hand to throw over their shoulder and everyone is given a red bindi with rice pressed into the wet paint. And finally you are given a moli thread that is wrapped around your right wrist by the priest (think Kabbala- celebrity crazed Madonna/Demi Moore red bracelet religion) This is to symbolize you have attended and been blessed at a Puja. Then comes the fire. Now remember, we are in a small room. Inside a house. In a small room. 7 people. Room. House. Fire. The priest takes out a small, metal waste basket looking thing and fills it with wood. Oh no you are not. Please also keep in mind it's 40 degrees here and the air conditioning and fans have been turned off for the ceremony. He brings out his little match box (why did I think it was funny to see a priest whip a match box out of his holy Indian tunic?) Don't do it man, don't do it. He did it. I am now sitting in a death trap. So this is what the beginnings of a house fire feel like. Good to know. I guess pink lungs aren't forever. The men take bits of what looks like something you would find on the bottom of a hamster cage mixed with white rice to offer into the flames, while all I can do is dwell over the fact that I have lived here three weeks now and have yet to stumble upon a fire extinguisher. I assume the priest is going through each and every god as they continue to sprinkle their offerings into the fire, while I apparently offer up my own flesh as it drips off my excruciatingly overheated body. This goes on for a very, VERY long time (it was probably like 5 minutes, but I was dying) and then the priest lights a candle and places it on another silver plate. Sweet, more flames. More heat. Bring it. The tray is passed around and one by one you stand in front of the fire and move the tray in a circular motion while chanting. I circulated anyway. Then finally, one of the women (Akshee) comes around with the tray and you take your palms to the tray, bringing the smoke of the flame toward your face and over your head (cuz there isn't enough smoke in my respiratory tract already) Lastly, and my favourite part, the priest offers you two (blessed) rasguli, a very sweet, white ball of yumminess. And all of this is done while you try desperately not to cough up a lung, melt, rub your burning eyeballs right out of their sockets, and lose complete feeling in your crossed legs and already tingling ass. I'm really not doing this ritual any justice. It actually was incredible to experience, and it really made me realize where I am. No Indian Idol, Mcdonalds, Pepsi, and flushing toilets. All western influences aside, this was India. This was me really seeing who these people are. And how lucky am I to have been able to sit right next to them and be a part of it all. And what was really amazing? Before the ceremony, I came out of my room wearing a long, yellow dress. Raj smiles. Chelsea, in the hindu religion, when it comes to any kind of worship or ceremony, yellow is considered a very auspicious colour.
...Look it up, I had to. 

Potentially Poor Life Choice Numero 2

Tuesday July 17'2012


5:30pm
Today I think I may have unknowingly made a hindu priest give up his seat on the metro. I don't know what came over me. The mild feminist in me just took over. I was all, bitch please old man ladies only. Respect your feminine inferior and let me have the one out of two seats I'm allowed on this repulsively sexist transit system. No fanny you standy. No vaginy no hiney. But the moment my sorry hiney did touch the seat I was like, Oh shit Chels, you did not just take a seat from an old man. Then the man sitting beside him said something about the left hand cleanses the right hand, and since I had no idea what the hell he was talking about I assumed it was something wise and profound... and priestly (not Jason Priestley. Thats l-e-y not l-y. Priestly is a word, I looked it up) I'm sure everyone around me thought I was an ungrateful, disrespecting little white girl, fair enough. At one point I considered shouting out "I'm american!" But I didn't. Instead, the minute another woman came on board I offered up my jaded seat in hopes that I would correct my poor karma. Doubt it worked though. Pretty sure priest man put some kind of hex on me. They do that here, they will curse you. Now I'll probably die from the black plague or have my first born son be made a human sacrifice, which I deserve, let's be honest. I literally dwelled over this the entire train ride to work. And to make matters worse, the woman I gave my seat to left three stops later and Mukesh insisted I sit in the cursed seat. He even used my name so now it's just a matter of time before the witnesses of my debauchery find out where I live (how many white Chelsea's live in Delhi, 2?) and have a mob of angry hindus come after me with pitch forks, or whatever agricultural tool they use here. Perhaps a chaff cutter...




I saw a cow today! Where does this leave my Indian wild life count you ask? Well let me tell you:


Cat (kitten too)
chipmunks
lizard
monkey
goat
cow
parrot
dogs. so many dogs.


Dogs here are like pigeons or seagulls back home. They are everywhere. Like everywhere. I now believe that my task in life is not to invent a human transportation device (though it is still a marvellous idea) but instead to establish an overseas adoption facility for dogs in India. I will ban breeding lame fancy dogs in North America and force people to adopt India's mediocre looking ones. If we can assist in the mass production of asian and black babies by adopting them, why not do the same for dogs. Take a load of India's back. I know right, not just a pretty face. 
And you can totally tell the difference between stray dogs and rich pet dogs. It's like humans here; the wealthy puppies are all fat and pudgy, and the homeless puppies are pratically see through. It's an accurate comparison. 




Friday July 20'2012


1:00pm
A lot of changes are going down around here. Too many changes. I am not a fan of change. In fact, I loath change. My freedom filled shower has now been caged with depressing glass walls. The best part of waking up is not folgers in your cup, but the exhilarating feeling of cold water splashing all over an open bathroom. The fact that I could do the buffalo in circles around the entire bathroom when I showered brought sincere joy to my mornings. That joy is now crushed by the repressive ways of western civilization. I weep. 


Stupid change #2. Mukesh is now only my part time bodyguard. I am being shared by two men now, and not in a good way. The first time it picked me up ('it' has a name but in my attempt to protest this horrible change I refuse to use it) I was mortified thinking I had lost Mukesh forever. All it said was I am with you, Mukesh is with Chelsea now. Huh? Chelsea, the other teacher. I am Chelsea (stupid head). Oh, who's the other teacher? Ellen, are we walking or what (reject)? 
This cannot be. Mukesh was my Kevin Costner. This hack wouldn't even pass for Whitney's son in the movie. First of all, he looks like an infant with a potbelly (I could take him, drunk, and standing on one leg). Second of all, pretty sure he got lost several times just getting me to the metro station (where I had to tell him he was heading for the wrong train, no the yellow line is this way. And so on and so forth) Then to top it all off he kept trying to sell me jazz shoes. I missed Mukesh and our silent affection for one another. It just blabs about the same thing over and over. Hush now chauffeur, quiet time (no way on god's dry and garbage ridden earth can you call that man a body guard) But my faith was restored when two days later, Mukesh was waiting for me downstairs all pretty in his token bright yellow polo and gold hoop earrings. Like a 21st century chain smoking genie. So now I have 'it', who escorts me, follows me in the mornings, and Mukesh to protect me in the evenings. Which he does so well. He even makes sure I am walking on the inside of him when we're on the street, my dad would be proud. I walk myself to and from the Patel Nagar studio now because it's only five minutes from home, but not when Mukesh is responsible for me. When my class finished last night, there he was. Mukesh you didn't have to wait for me. I could have walked home myself. No no, you alone. I'm fine Mukesh, really. No, I am your bodyguard. No alone. God I've missed this man. So we walked in mutual silence. Beautiful, sweet silence. We've even mastered our goodbye hug. Not gonna lie, it was awkward at first, heads were knocked, timing was off. But now we've got it down. Handshake with the right hand, lean to our left for the hug, double back pat and recover to neutral stance.




Now that I have been here for over two weeks, I feel I am ready to be honest about something. I have been toilet paper free for 11 days...and I love it. Not only is it as exhilarating as my open shower (rest in peace) but I feel I am doing my part to save the trees. Don't freak out, it's not a left hand pooper scooper situation by any means (I am open to new things but come on now). There is a hose beside the toilet. Like pressure washing your asshole. It's kinda fun. Possibly really fun. I believe I can truly call myself an Indian now. 
But watch, with all this freaking change I'll wake up to find a toilet paper holder being installed in my self loathing Indian bathroom. 

Living, Loving, and Laundry

Sunday July 15'2012


10:49am
I can't do movies here. I just can't do them. And it's not for a lack of trying, I promise you. I want to like them, but they're just so god damn long. By intermission my western A.D.D. trained mind is finished, fried. And the film last night was actually good. No florescents, only a few love professing songs, and it was set in London, minus the final scene which was in Delhi (my  lack of attention returned at this point so I could note all the familiar places I'd been to and seen. Ya I live in Delhi)


Last night I made a difficult but necessary decision. I have decided to limit myself to one indian meal a day from here on out. As much as I just adore these people's food, well, it's killing me. It is in turn eating me from the inside out. The amount of spice and grease, I just- I try- but no. And I've noticed with each day my portion sizes get bigger. It's like they've slowly transitioned me onto their fiery diet. And now I'm a fat Indian cow (those things are not pretty) with serious indigestion. Plus this dinner at 9:30pm business is just wrong, on so many levels. Although I do enjoy the fact that dinner is at the exact same time every night. It's cute. It's like living in the 50's... during a paralyzing heat wave. So today I will go shopping and hunt for some bland somethings to hopefully settle the rave that is going down in my digestive tract. 


Living in India as a tiny white girl must be very similar to living as a celebrity. Always feeling like you are on display. No privacy the second you leave your home. People constantly coming up to you and pointing and talking about you. It gets to the point where you just get bitchy. Dude, your entire wardrobe just stepped out of the early 80's, what do YOU have to look at? And sari woman, I can see your under-boob, so maybe check that before you glare at me for wearing a tank top. And guy sitting on top of a semi truck on the side of a main road covered in suds, I'm watching you bathe right now, enough said. 




Monday July 16'2012


10:45am
Less than two months until I am home. Is that wrong? Is it wrong that I have the opportunity to live on the other side of the world and experience life outside my own and I am counting down the days till it's over? Yes. It's not that I'm not loving all of this. I am. Most days. Even the chaos has grown on me. But that doesn't mean I can't yearn for quiet streets, green grass, clean air, and a cheeseburger. 
Yesterday Raj took me to more malls. I never thought these words would ever leave my mouth but, yuk soup. I was bored. I was in a mall and I was bored. I didn't even try a single thing on, shoes included. I blame the malls here, for I'm certain I haven't lost my shopoholic touch. Three malls now I've been to and it's all the same, except the last mall had a hot dog stand. All the stores look the same. The local stores sell cheap mariposa type shit and the most common "name brand" stores here are ones I'd never step foot in back home... Levi's. Yikes. But then again I am what is known as a "lone shopper". I work best alone. The only person I truly feel comfortable shopping with is my mom because she understands the system. Shopping is a marathon, not a sprint. You must keep hydrated, and be prepared to face hours in one store alone. No store is off limits (except maybe Levi's) and the most skilled of shoppers can find gems in the most challenging of places. I am one of those skilled shoppers, but with a right hand man who doesn't understand the system, there is little point. So Raj bought me kulfi (a delicious frozen milky treat on a stick) and I attempted to buy us coffee (which ended up being milkshakes) and we went home.
Later that night, Raj tells me he was sitting in the living room when God told him to come to him. So he invited me along to temple, just steps down the road. Now this I really enjoyed. This is what fascinates me, what turns my crank. This one vastly out did the last temple I went to because this one felt real. There was such an energy coming from this place. Upon entering, barefoot, you pour water over a shrine for Lord Shiva, then chime a bell to announce you have entered his place of worship. You pray to a monkey god (I'm not being ignorant, they call him the monkey god)then touch his feet, which are covered in orange paint that you then dab on your forehead to mark your bindi. The bindi shows you have been a good hindu and gone to temple. This monkey god is one of the most worshipped gods in the hindu religion because he has always been around. Throughout time, gods have come and gone from Earth, taken on new forms, but the monkey god always remained. Always there for people and other gods alike. Then there is the elephant god, who is probably most recognized by non-hindus. He is the son of another god who had isolated himself in meditation and prayer for a great deal of time. The god's wife got lonely, so from the strength and power within her, she created her own son. Years later when the god returned from solitude, he found this young man guarding his wife while she bathed. Not knowing who each other were, the boy would not let the god through. So the god chopped off the boy's head in a fit of rage (understandable). When his wife discovered what had happened, she refused to speak to her husband until her son was returned to her. The god sent out all his men, but none could find the boy's head. So instead they took the head of a baby elephant and placed it on the boy. To make up for his physical "deformity" the god made this boy the strongest and most powerful of gods. He is now the first god to be acknowledged and prayed to in any hindu temple. 
Learning about the hindu religion was interesting to say the least. It is funny, the similarities you find between religions. For example, there is a story in the hindu belief where a giant snake is tormenting and killing an entire region of people by a river. A young boy challenges the snake, hits him on a certain point on his head and kills him, saving everyone. David and Goliath much? Or the god's wife creating her own son? Immaculate conception? It makes you think. Religions may be very different, but they are all the same. They all try to promote the same message in one way or another. Whether it's through one god or 100. Standing in that temple felt no different than the years I spent standing in a christian church. Those I saw praying to 5 different gods had the same passion, the same positive and enlightened energy than those I used to watch pray in church when I was little. It's all the same. Except here they play badminton. Yes. At this particular temple, if you pass all the shrines and find your way to the back, there is a small slab of cement just outside the temple where you will find a man with two rackets and a birdie. His theory is that 2-5 minutes of badminton a day is the equivalent to meditation. His form of meditation. He offered me a racket. Oh no, no no no. I am a dancer. I don't do sports. No coordination. This man's not getting it. I am playing with him, and that is that. So there I was, bindi on forehead, standing in front of a hindu temple, practicing badminton meditation. You can't make this stuff up. And I wasn't bad either. 
Before leaving, you are given holy water in overlapped cupped hands (there is a specific way to cup you hands, overlap is hindu, side by side cupping is punjab. I made this mistake) Sip then wipe remainder on your head. Then the priest (I met a hindu priest) gives you a gift. A blessed mango. As I left I thanked him and he blessed me by touching my forehead. This made me happy. This made me love India. 




2:25pm
I just came back from my second trip to the trusty Food Bazaar. Today I am feeling all good things. I am, how they would say, working it. I can say for the most part, I know my way around my neighbourhood, and I'm feeling pretty confident. Two weeks in and I'm walking around like I own the place, which at these prices I probably could. I bought a giant bag of pistachios for $4.00 and an even bigger bag of almonds for $5.00, because you can take the Chelsea out of Canada but you can't take the bulk obsession out of Chelsea. I also bought more badam, yogurt, mango soy milk?? and a lot of other stuff. A full basket for $16.00. A full basket in Vancouver, $50.00. I might not come home. It is so incredibly beautiful out today. Last night I did laundry for the first time and hung my delicates to dry on my balcony. This morning I got to wake up and retrieve them, all warm and sun kissed. India makes me love doing laundry. This place is magical. Or maybe it's simply because here I don't cook, I don't clean, I haven't touched a dish, so maybe I appreciate the small chore I do get to do... No, that can't be it because that's really no different than when I'm home and I still never do laundry. And I'm most certainly never happy when I do. It has to be magical.

A Rupee for a Boobie?

Friday July 13'2012


9:00pm
Well I just got mildly molested. Gotta be a first for everything right? Fucking metro. Like seriously guy, are you really that desperate that the only way you can get your rocks off is by copping a feel on a train? Yes, clearly you are. Here's where my knowledge of very angry hindi words comes in handy. The place was packed and getting on the train was like being swept up by a tidal wave. You have absolutely no control. You don't even have to move, people will just move you themselves. People are pushing you on and pushing through you, I thought I was going to get trampled. And with all the people and chaos in such tight quarters, why not reach for a boob? In the disgusting hoard of men, I felt a hand grab my itty bitty tity. It tried to pull away but I grabbed it, squeezed it, then yanked whatever fingers I could grasp as far back as I could before the fucker pulled away. If only I had seen the face belonging to that sorry excuse for a limb. But before I could even look around, another hand grabbed my ass. For fuck's sake people. Seriously. Unable to identify ass or boob pervert, I just gave the entire cab my 'don't fuck with me' face. Mukesh was separated from me in the mass swarm that flooded the train but he found his way back and just placed his hand on mine (obviously my rage was more than visible). One guy (he was a giant, like 6 feet tall- here that's a giant) pushed a bunch of guys away and made a little nook for me to fit where I actually had room to breathe. He huddled over me to prevent anyone from entering my sacred safety bubble. Then when my stop came, he pushed everyone away to make a pathway for me to the door (I'm serious about this crowded business, it was like being in a dense rainforest and using a machete to hack through a pathway). I wish I had a machete. Heads would roll. But as thankful as I was for Andre's help, it did very little. The minute the door opened I thought I was going to get run over. It was literally a human stampede. Far more scary than crossing some stupid road. For a city that is known to be incredibly laid back, you all need to calm the fuck down.


Saturday July 14th'2012


12:56pm
I just saw a commercial for skin whitening face wash, "Fair and Lovely". What a very strange world I am living in. The same country that looks at white people as if they were lepers has skin whitening cream. I do not comprehend this so I ask Raj. Everyone wants to be lighter here. And now that I am aware, I see "whitening effects" in everything! I have to be careful when buying any moisturizer or body soap because they all have bleach in them, or whatever they use to turn white. At first I was so appalled by this, but then I realized, we're the exact same only in reverse. Our culture is so obsessed with being bronzed and beautiful. In vancouver there are almost as many tanning salons as there are starbucks. And the minute the sun comes out our beaches are over crowded with oiled up nearly nude fried bacon posing as people in bikinis (no judgement, I am one of them) So how are we any different? Dark people want to be light and light people want to be dark. The grass is always greener...


My internet isn't working and I can't find Raj to fix it for the millionth time. Once again I have no idea when I teach today so I can't really go anywhere, so I am sitting alone in the living room drinking my third cup of chai and watching a tv show about an innocent young woman trying to become a super model. It helps that here they tend to speak half hindi and half english. For instance, a girl just got slapped and reacted by calling the slapper a bastard. I understood that. Granted, bastard was one of the first words I learned in hindi so really, bad example. 
I learned how to ask for things today. Basically you just add "dido" on the end of whatever you want. If you want more of something you being with "all". All chai dido. That one I've mastered. 
God these girls are beautiful. If I stay here long enough I wonder if my hair will start to grow all long and black and thick and shiny. Probably. Or maybe each of my students can donate a chunk of their luscious locks to my poor thin and dull white girl hair cause and then I'll have enough to construct a glorious wig. That way I can switch between white girl next door brunette, and Indian midnight black sex goddess. Perfect. 


(I swear sometimes MB reads my mind. I was just about to ask him, nimbo pani dido (sweet lemon water) and before I could even get the words out BAM! nimbo pani right there in front of me. Good man, this one. And small enough to fit in my suitcase... hmmm)


Oh this is good. So I've been trying to practice my inner meditation so to not rage about how my days are being completely wasted here waiting for INCOMPETENT fools (see it's working...) so needless to say everyone in the house is feeling my frustration. Eddie just called me into his room. He says, Arijeet just called, I told him you are not working today you are busy. I have you for the day therefore you will not work. I laugh thinking he is kidding. Negative. This is for real. Arijeet has been told I will not work today and therefore it is so. WHERE AM I? So now Eddie is going to take me out for the day. A movie, to temple, and then who knows. This is for real? Bizaar-o world.


Mukesh just showed up to take me to class. Oh come on now! I call Sanjib. Sanjib, I thought I wasn't teaching today. Oh yes, yes, Mukesh messed up, he is supposed to be picking up Ellen (another teacher here from the states). Ok cool so I am still not teaching today? No you are not teaching today. Good, because I am telling you now, I will not teach again until a set schedule is made and firmly followed. Enough is enough (I really put my foot down) Anyway I blabbed on in a very stern and what I believe was an intimidating tone. He completely agreed, apologized. We will fix this. 6pm rolls around and Mukesh is here once again to take me to class. This is more over kill than that bloody bollywood film. At this point my face greatly resembles the 'don't fuck with me face' I donned on the metro yesterday. Long story short, my rage won and I did not teach today. Hold your ground kids, especially when you're in India. Or just don't go to India, especially if you're a kid. There are already too many of those here.


Between Mukesh visit #1 and #2, I went shopping! Raj, Eddie, and Akshee took me to... a mall! Motha what! I bought shoes, naturally. They are simply stunning. Easily worth $60-70 in Canada... $15. India, my positive feelings for you are getting stronger. Keep it up. Funny enough, I also bought candy (how could I not) and that cost me $7. Shoes $15. Ten pieces of bulk candy, $7. The reality of how upside down this country is, priceless.

Elvis, Chicken Poops, and Aloo Chat

Wednesday July 11'2012


3:20pm
Today I am dreaming about the airport. Today I want to go home. Maybe it's because today is the first day where if I was home I'd be with Jason. Or maybe it's because I'm so frustrated with the lack of communication and organization of the dance school. Or how easy it is to feel completely isolated here and when all you want to do is call your mom you can't because its 3:00am her time and she's fast asleep. In Kelowna. Where you're only wishing you could be. Either way, the fact that I'm pretty confident I have bed bugs definitely has something to do with it. So I have Elvis singing Blue Moon on repeat. And I'm eating a chocolate bar... even though my tummy hurts. Because my mom is not here to tell me I shouldn't. 


Thursday July 12'2012


8:06pm
Today I like India a lot (I'm not ready to commit to love quite yet) apart from my minor Delhi Belly experience... Raj got MB to make chicken for me, apparently my meat withdrawals have surfaced. It was... Indian chicken (delicious, don't get me wrong, I ate my weight in it, but different). And sure enough, at 4:00am I felt like I was giving birth to a chicken. Oh holy baby jesus poops. After death by chicken dinner, Raj took me and another girl (no clue what her name is and I try so hard to drill it into my head every time) for a walk to get icecream from a vendor in East Patel Nagar. I got cookies and cream then finished off no-name's litchi popsicle. And then I watched Hunger Games before having the best night's sleep since my arrival (minus the chicken poops).


This morning I woke up to chai and a very intense visit with Raj and Eddie. Eddie likes to drill me on every aspect of western life. Today's topic was love, marriage, and dating. For hours we compared Canadian and Indian dating rituals (or lack there of). I learned all about his arranged marriage (and the dissolution of it) and he asked when I am marrying Jason. Both of these men are victims of wives taking off on them. That's it, that's all, gone. Ironically, both wives are sisters. Raj and Eddie's oldest brother married a girl. That girl's younger sister was then "booked" to marry Eddie. And Raj being the youngest, ended up falling for their youngest sister. So three brothers and three sisters, and one successful marriage. Those odds are not great. Dingy says her parents are open to a love marriage for her, but most marriages are still arranged here in India. Eddie says I need to learn more hindi, and not the junk Raj keeps teaching me. Since we're on the topic he says, How about I love you. Raj says, I'll tell her, I'll tell her. When you say I love you, you say 'Tom Ganu Ho'


..........it means you're an asshole. 






I was planning to spend the day at an outdoor pool I discovered online but due to the torrential downpour, I instead opted to shop. I found a mall located directly outside the metro station, assuring a successful arrival. But then Raj and Akshee (another dietician residing here) invited me to go with them to Karol Bagh Market. If you've been paying any attention you'd know I had briefly been there with Arijeet to get sheets and a towel, so I knew if I was going to go back it wouldn't ever be alone, so I didn't hesitate. Karol Bagh is the biggest market in all of Asia. It's huge and I have no sense of direction. So you understand my reluctancy to go alone without some kind of human compass. It has been a week now that I've walked the streets of Delhi and dealt with the incessant staring, but the first time I'd walked with another girl. Akshee was just as shocked as I first was. She couldn't get over how much everyone stared at me. It was funny to see it from another perspective. And both her and Raj were amused by the fact that cars and people alike would actually stop to let me pass them or cross the street, where as any Indian would sooner become road kill. So of course I became designated leader through oncoming traffic, both human and motorized. I became my own personal traffic signal.
I bought a "Kuiti" today! A long Indian tunic. It's yellow and white and cute as a button. I also bought some spices from Roopak's (a spice shop I read about in my woman's guide to India book) and some dried curry mango. Nom nom nom. Then Raj introduced me to Indian street food, my first of what I hope to be many experiences. Aloo chat. Fried potatoes (think chunky hashbrowns) smothered in mint paste, lemon, coriander, and chat seasoning. It was nothing I'd ever dreamed about. The intensity of flavour in Indian food never ceases to amaze me. It was spicy as all hell and Raj even asked for mine to be mild... good god. So we stood on the side of the road, aloo chat cupped in one hand, sweet lassi in the other, and happiness all around. 

How Bazaar

Monday July 9'2012


1:58pm
I'm wiped. India takes a lot out of you. Last night Raj and Eddie took me to a bollywood film. Oh my word. First of all, their movies have intermissions. Why would they have intermissions? Oh because the films are 67 hours long! It's called overkill. But by the end of the film I did start to wonder why when Jason and I met there weren't a mob of florescent clad dancers behind each of us, on a beach, accompanying us while we professed our love through the power of hip gyrating and song. To say the least, it grew on me. Something to check off my bolly-bucket list. And the women are so disgustingly gorgeous, it's worth it just to sit there and gawk at them and question why you're not a lesbian. Before the movie, Bert and Ernie bought me paan from a vendor outside the theatre. I admit, I have found something in India I do not ever wish to eat again. Paan is a leaf folded and filled with herbs and shit that is meant to be used as a refreshment after eating. Like fucked up gum. You put the whole thing in your mouth, stuffed in the side of your cheek like a squirrel, and nibble at it slowly. Tastes like soap. Soap wrapped in a leaf stuffed in your mouth. Fermenting. (side note, later on Raj will make me try the condensed candy version at a store in Karol Bagh market, despite my protesting, where I will proceed to run out of the store and spit the tiny balls of hell onto the street, clearly showing my appreciation to the store keeper who let me try them for free... well done chels)
After almost falling asleep several times while muslim dude tries to hide his religion from his hindu Arnold Schwarzenegger looking boss through a series of quirky lies and over the top dance breaks all to end up falling in love with hindu Arnold's sister, which is complicated because he's gay (I could be a little off on the details)... anyway, what I'm trying to say is I was dead to the world the second I got home. Until about 45 minutes later when that world came crashing down around me. I didn't want to have to tell you this way, but I have no choice. 
I have Milaria. I am dying. There is no other explanation for the hell I narrowly averted last night. Huddled in the fetal position, positive that an alien alien baby was going to rip its way through my stomach and proceed to eat me alive, which quite possibly would be less painful than what I actually experienced (I just recently watch Prometheus before leaving for India) It's either that, or Typhoid. Either way I'm certain it had nothing to do with that god forsaken soap leaf I ingested........


Tuesday July 10'2012


11:30am
Oh my good god in heaven. The power went out again just now but didn't come back 5 seconds later like last time. I am melting. Mt skin is literally sliding off my bones. I think I, yup, there goes an ear lobe. Eye lids are next. Dear air conditioning: I have taken you for granted and from the bottom of my heart I sincerely apologize. You have shown me what life would be without you and it's just not worth living. So please come back to me. I love you. 
Ha! It worked! Praise Jesus. 


Yesterday Arijeet took me to the Karol Bagh Market, the biggest in Delhi. I was confused. Upon arriving, he remembered that it is closed on mondays, but it sure didn't look closed. If this was closed, I don't think I'd wanna be there when it's open. People everywhere, the streets flooded with vendor after vendor selling everything from duffle bags to bathroom towels (I bought one, it's pink!) to souvenir tshirts. Mostly junk though, from what I saw anyway, which wasn't much since every time I slowed down, Arijeet urged me along, "come, come!" We were only there to get necessities. I've been sleeping on borrowed sheets and we already know that superstore towel does not belong to me, though we share the same nationality. So we picked up some Mickey Mouse sheets and an Indian blanket, my pretty pink lotus flower towel, and a metropass. He then took me to the studio's location nearest me for reasons unknown to me and everyone else for that matter. No one at the studio knew I was coming and really had no reason for me to be there. 


I'm sorry, I have to stop myself. There is a construction man here who feels the need to hock a loogie in solid 10 minute intervals throughout his workday, which in turn makes me want to ralph in similar intervals. Every day. Second most disturbing thing in the whole universe. And how does this man even produce that much phlegm? It's not humanly possible. And the intensity behind each one, the guy's gonna wind up hocking out intestines or something. I'm worried for his safety, and mine for that matter.


Where was I? Ah yes, pointless studio visit. So once Arijeet catches up on the pointlessness he takes me home. At least I got to see where I'm teaching. Silver lining. 


2:37pm
I went grocery shopping! To the trusty Food Bazaar. Eddie calls me Columbus because I explore all on my own. What a delightful little store full of delicious treats and snacks. I want to try everything! But I must pace myself. So I bought the following:
~Tasty Orange Cream cookies
~Jeera cookies (which I only purchased because a. they sounded very Indian b. on the back of the packaging there is a paragraph about how everyone should live to eat. Sold.)
~"Magic Masala" Lays potato chips
~A bag of what looks like the same cookies I bought at the sweet shop (obsessed) (note: they did not turn out to be the same-huge let down)
~Khakhra (no clue, absolutely no idea)
~strawberry and mango yogurts
~lemon flavoured bubbly something
~guava juice
~litchi juice
~mango juice
~Badam drink (again, not a clue)
~and a mango
....all for $7.00. India you are something else. I swear I was in the Food Bazaar for almost 2 hours. Loved it.  Haven't seen pickles yet though. Very concerned. But I did see olives so we're getting close. Now to find some gin and I'm golden. 
Columbus also discovered there's a Mcdonalds only steps from her house. A dangerous discovery indeed. But I didn't go in. I'm gonna save that one for a rainy day. Maybe when I'm feeling a little bummed out and need a taste of home. Mmmm french fries. 


P.S. I came home to Raj on the phone while two service guys in blue shirts stand over pieces of an air purifier. Raj was calmly discussing the fact that the air purifier company should train their men on how to install their product before sending them out to do so. Your men have no idea what they are doing. They are not trained. I look at the men who shrug in agreeance. They are clueless. Hilarious. I was dying. 


P.S.S. Eddie just came in to say goodbye, he is off to work. 5 seconds later he come back into my room with a chocolate bar. A gift to you. Then he pulls out a GIANT one and says, don't worry, I kept the big one for me. 




9:30pm
I...am exhausted. Makesh (my new bodyguard- or at least that's how he like to refer to himself) took me to the second location I will be teaching at which is an almost two hour walk/metro/rickshaw ride away in a place called Gurgaon. I was told earlier today I would just be observing the class. Of course when I got there they thought I was teaching it. I was in a dress. Totally unprepared but hell, I'm here to teach, I might as well. So I hiked up my floral print sun dress (thank buddha I was wearing panties) and pulled a class out of my ass. The students are amazing. So eager to soak up everything I have to say. I love dancing in India. With the heat, your body warms up so fast and you're just a power house. It's like bikram ballet. Love! Love! Love! Love! Love! Probably lost 10 lbs in sweat though. Delicious. Of course I didn't bring a water bottle with me so I almost passed out on the train ride home. Man that's a weird feeling (very similar to the depiction in films actually, well done hollywood) First you get all dizzy and light headed, you can't focus and then it's like you go deaf or something. Everything is mumbles. My bodyguard made a dude give up his seat for me (women don't sit. There are two, yes two, reserved seats for women on each million foot long train. Next to the "old and sick" seats). The chivalrous man who sacrificed his seat offered me water and asked if I was ok every 10 minutes until my stop. What kindness. When I got off, he gave me his water bottle and wished me well. This city is growing on me. Makesh got me home safely and hugged me goodbye, which was weird since we maybe spoke 3 words to each other the entire day, one of them being goodbye. I'll take it, I'm in India. 

Mader Chod

Sunday July 8'2012


3:15am
So I rushed home from my Gobal travels to be home by noon for Arijeet to meet me for errand running, only to find no Arijeet... for 5 hours. No Arijeet and no phone call so I had to just sit and wait. Kinda feels like that about sums up my trip thus far. Not so down. Today is not the day to be writing. I might as well burn my big girl pants cuz they are just not cutting it. Probably not a day we wanna keep on file. Will report back when I'm not, as the director of the dance school puts it, and angry bird. 




12:57pm
Oh guess what? I'm waiting for Arijeet. Angry bird. Supposed to be here at noon to pick me up for another studio show. Meh, more time to drink chai. When in doubt, chai. And that's my new philosophy!
The show last night very much reflected India, intense and jam packed. Ashley, the artistic director- resembles an Indian Steve Carell- joked about the show being a factory. But it was. It was one giant conveyer belt, mass producing groups to Janet, Robbie Williams, Britney, Vitamin String Quartet, and of course a MJ tribute. Over 600 students condensed into one hour and 45 minute show. Good god. There is definitely a lot of potential in these kids. and a whole lot of heart. But the ballet is very obviously lacking- enter Chelsea. They are strong, fit kids but technically they need basics. They have no foundation. But it is clear that every single one of them, all 6,226,000 are eager and extremely dedicated. Which makes me a little discouraged to hear I won't actually start teaching until thursday or even friday. I know in theory this shouldn't bother me, being in India and all and basically having a whole week to do whatever the hell I want, but I'm antsy. I came here to teach and I just want to get started. I will have every weekend for the next two months to piss around. Get me in a dance studio!
After the show, Ashley invited me to dinner with the heads of the Delhi locations and a few Sr dancers from the Danceworx company. Ashley is a man by the way, in case you were concerned that a woman would resemble Steve Carell. We went to a place called Out of The Box Cafe in Connaught Place. Very cute and very westernized. TOILET PAPER! They served everything from spaghetti to spicy fried paneer, to nachos. My kind of place. I had a caprese salad. Ya Ya, why on earth would I order an italian dish in India, bla bla. It was delicious. I'm here, you're not, I make the decisions. And I had paneer... not that I'm justifying anything. Had my first drink in India too, an orange mint mojito. Now thats what you call an ethnically balanced meal. We chatted and ate until early in the am. I sampled some of Steve's, er, Ashley's mango "cheesecake" and apple tart with vanilla ice cream. Hello home. Then Shohini and her husband (can't do his name) drove me home. Very sweet couple. They are basically my bosses while here. Shohini is like 4 feet tall, if that, and adorable but can take charge like no one's business. Seems about right. 
When I came home, Raj and Dingy were watching TV. I joined them and they translated a bollywood soap for me. Or at least I hope it was a soap cuz it was god awful. Allow me to sum up: Boy is married, Boy's wife dies, Boy remarries to previously divorced girl with baggage and children. Boy and Girl like each other but Boy is still hung up on dead wife and Girl is insecure. New wife finds lipstick on Boy's shirt and worries he's cheating (this is explained repeatedly over what seems like hours of "smelling the fart" monologues- watch friends and you'll get it) BUT! He isn't cheating! The lipstick is from him saving another girl's life by catching her as she's about to commit suicide by jumping off a cliff! She is in love but her mother has promised her to another man so what choice does she have but to end her sorrowful existence. Whoa. 
Between commercials Raj and Dingy decide to use me for entertainment purposes and teach me some less than appropriate hindi words. Alls I'm saying is, you piss me off, prepare to get quite the mouthful. Mader Chod!




6:44pm
Arijeet finally picked me up to go to the second dance show. It's confirmed, there is time and then there is Indian time. No matter how far away you are, you are always only 10 minutes away. 10 minutes, I'll be there in just 10 minutes. Arijeet makes much more sense now. So today I watched another version of the same show from the night before but with slightly different casts. Only this time I got to be front row centre. I met some of the students from the Bombay location. They want me to go there and teach them. Bombay has beaches. Done. Take me now. Sanjib gave me a hard time about being here for such a short time. He says, Cheltsea (here my name has a T in it) Cheltsea, you tell me now and I'll bring you the contract. One year. Sanjib if I stay here for a year I won't have a boyfriend to come home to. Not a problem. Cheltsea we have plenty of good boys for you here. Not a problem. Right Arijeet? Not a problem. I think I may have just been the victim of a shot gun arranged marriage. Except no one's knocked up. Never mind, poor analogy.
I came home to find MB, AJ and Shot Gun busy at work (#3 is now shot gun, keep up. His real name is something like Shetrgun, but because, again, I'm incapable, I get to call him Shot Gun. Which is actually the name of a famous Bollywood actor here. His daughter is currently in the tabloids for dating a substantially older gentleman) It is so beautiful outside, the first time the sun has really been out since I've arrived, and there's even a bit of a breeze so I decide to venture out. I remember seeing a strip of stores not far from me when Arijeet dropped me off. My intersection skills are improving, so that's nice. And you start to care less about the staring with time. But the smells, those you never get used to. I found a little park downt he street, conveniently parallel to a crosswalk! Otherwise I probably wouldn't have bothered going to it. I said I was improving, nothing's been mastered. It was cute, in a weird cement enclosed, prison-esque sort of way. There was a couple cuddling in a gazebo, and some boys playing Cricket (just like in Marigold Hotel!) I keep walking- Oh hey though! Breaking news: as I waited at the friendly crosswalk I saw my first white guy! He was passing in an auto rickshaw. It's like trying to spot wildlife, bird watching or something else relevant. We both looked at each other as if to say, I'm right there with ya Pal, we got this. Orrr more like, what the hell did we get ourselves into? I found a shoe store! They had really cute sandals. I tried on one pair which turned into 30 pairs. Once they know your size you might as well make yourself comfortable cuz you about to try on the store's entire stock. RP550/pair which is like 11 bucks CAD. I could do better. The problem with shopping here is I don't know where I'm supposed to haggle and where the prices are fixed, which leaves me either making a fool of myself or getting played. So a win/win. I bought a bag of cookies from a sweet shop for RP50
a)I don't even know what they are
b)I don't even know if I should eat them
c)that's basically a dollar. Are these cookies worth a dollar?
Indian life is stressful. 
So I've spent my first rupees, broke the seal. It's all down hill from here. Time to go home. It's weird though, these shops are so friggen tiny but they have like 10 'salesmen' working at one time. And at least one will follow you through the entire store. Like footstep by footstep, not even a foot away from you. It kinda makes me wanna steal something and make a mad dash for it. Probably not the best idea (no, that was Gobal day) the police look like bad guys. 
On the way home I stopped at another small park. It caught my eye because it was super green!!! Lawn! Oh glorious lawn! A young boy came up to me and asked to have his photo taken with me. It's happened. I'm famous.... for being white. 


I wish the three stooges spoke english. I'm around them the most and the only word MB and I both understand is chai, so you could imagine I drink a lot of it when he's around. AJ and I just do thumbs up. Shot gun speaks the most english but of course, he's around the least. Only in the evening mostly. So that blows. But he's really sweet. They all are. It's funny how quickly someone can grow on you without ever really exchanging words. I like hearing them talk to each other while creating my own interpretation of their dialogue in my head. Then I giggle out loud and they look at me weird. You're weird. 
I got Eddie to investigate my cookie purchase. I was not cheated after all. And more importantly they are delicious (I made him eat one first) especially dipped in chai. I've decided to try something new every time I am out. I figure it'll make up for ordering italian food last night. 

Potentially Poor Life Choice Numero 1

Saturday July 7,2012


12:35pm
I did it. Good lord in heaven I did it. I left the hostel. What an incredibly invasive city! My nose, my eyes, my ears have all basically been sensory raped. People everywhere, a million different smells attack you all at once and the noise, dear baby jesus the noise. If i ever hear anyone complain about rush hour in Vancouver I will not hesitate to slap the stupid right out of them. Dogs everywhere, chipmunks. Delhi has chipmunks. I have seen 3, how fitting. Simon, Theodore, and Alvin. Alvin nearly became roadkill, but thus is the circle of life. The minute I stepped outside I might as well have been naked (I think I'd actually prefer it that way, cuz then at least everyone would have a legit reason to stare. Go for it man, naked boobies, I feel ya) But no. Whatever, I am white and I am proud of it. I am a proud white woman. I walked around the corner a ways, passed by numerous hole in the wall (literally) stores selling lays potato chips, fanta, and chocolate bars. There are men on the street (again, literally. you know what, let's just save the bracket hassle and note that nothing in this post is figurative)so like I said, literally sitting on the street, selling vegetables, also sitting on the street. Carts of mangoes, dress "closets" (you can't call those stores, my Indian closet is bigger than those things). Then I come to an intersection. So much of me wants to turn around and run home to the comforts of my Indian nook. I will die. If I try to cross this intersection I too will share the fate of poor Alvin. So I stand for a minute and watch an old man turn the corner and carry on down the same side of the street. Done. There was nothing for me on the other side anyway. So I keep walking down Patel Rd, yup I'm that good. The sidewalk is a joke, you have to duck under trees and half the time it disappears or looks as if it exploded so you have to pray to god and walk on the road until the sidewalk resumes. To cross the road... nope, not even gonna go there. Wasn't ready to do it, not gonna write about it. So I get like 15 minutes away from my safe house when an auto rickshaw driver pulls over (I had not planned to spend any money today, or ever until I learn how to correctly use it- watch Chelsea hand out the equivalent of 100 dollas for a 5 minutes cab ride- it would happen). He starts chatting and I kindly try to blow him off. He says he remembers me because of those things that protect me from the sun (sunglasses) he remembers taking me to a hotel (never happened but I go along with it. I figure agreeing is easier than trying to explain he's crazy) Yes, I like the hotel very much! Thank you! He talks to me for a while, on the side of the devil's highway, then offers me a ride to a buddhist temple not far from us. Hmmmm, my spidey sense is tingling. I explain I have no money but he insists its free, scouts honour the whole bit (maybe Loretta and Jason stop reading at this point. Think rainbows and daughters/girlfriends that make good choices) So I say what the hell. A leap of faith! What's the worst that can happen? I get raped, murdered, kidnapped and sold on the black market for sex or my organs? Meh, when in Rome! Besides, nothing bad ever happened to Julia Roberts apart from gaining like 25 lbs and starring in a mediocre film. Double besides, I went with my gut. This old man seemed legit and very sweet. So did the witch that ate Hanzel and Gretel. With that thought I made sure I had India 911 on standby. Turns out he was legit (MOM AND JASON COME BACK!) There in front of me was a remarkably beautiful buddhist temple called Birla Mandir. Red and all huge and stuff, white and gold trimming. Gorgeous. Rickshaw man, Gobal, took me to the building beside it which was beautiful but much more humble. This was the Mahir Buddhist Society of India. This is where the average Joe goes to pray and meditate. Inside was simple but very pretty. Scripture on the walls, which I copied down since you can't take pictures inside. Paintings high above the walls, and in the back a separate glass room to pray. Gobal tells me the Dalai Lama sat right here just last year in December. He comes to India every year to celebrate Buddha's birthday. Is it ironic that both Jesus and Buddha are Capricorns? Anyway, I watched him pray and bow to the statues in the little glass room surrounded by flowers and candles... and water bottles. Then he taught me a prayer chant and how to use the incense while chanting. Don't ask me to repeat it, their language is tough cookies, but what it means is:


I pray at Buddha's feet
I come here to pray
I pray to Buddha


So not as pretty and uplifting in english. Gobal also explained the practice of yoga- the not so lululemon version. He showed me breath and how it lift you. Not gonna lie it was something else to have a complete stranger sincerely want to take time to teach you about his culture and beliefs. When would you ever find someone like this in Canada? Then he took me next door to where the keepers of the temple were. They made us Sri Lankan Chai and he explained more about what Buddhism stands for. Love and happiness, peace and caring. There is no anger. We all die, he tells me. We are born, we are young, we are old, we get sick, we die. Everyone does. So why be angry? You cannot hold on to this anger and you cannot bring it with you so why be angry at all? Here! Here!
Gobal has two sons who are in college and a wife who lives in a village far away. He lives here to work and only sees her every 6 months, sometimes a year. Jesus Chels, suck it up over your 2.5 months ya big baby. I tell him I should get back, he gives me his number and tells me whenever I want to learn more about India he will come for me. Sweet, but I think my time with Gobal has come and gone. The Canadian in me questions how much kindness is too much kindness? Coulda really dodged a bullet with that one. 
Here's the real kicker, I get dropped off at exactly the intersection I feared when I first ventured out. What a delightful coincidence. This time I pray to Buddha I don't become tire tread. It really wasn't that bad. India is making me see what a giant incubated baby I am, and I am determined to overcome this. 
On the way home I tried to guess which way we needed to take in order to get me back. I was right every time! Jason, you'd be so proud! I have my wits about me! Until I got to my street and questioned why I chose the reference point of "the building with the monkeys in front of it" to decipher mine from the 20 others on the block. Yup. At least I took of photo of it before I left, thank Buddha!




Side note: I just googled Buddha's birthday and it is definitely NOT in december, which means there's a good chance none of the information in this blog is at all accurate. Probably wasn't even Sri Lankan tea. What a hack. Bullet-dodged.

Still just the beginning....

Saturday July 7,2012
12:06am


So it's technically Saturday but I am considering it still friday. 
So much for adventure today. I didn't wake up until like 6:30pm. At least I slept for a good solid chunk of time, now let's hope I can sleep through the night and get on that India time! I woke up to find Arijeet here with Raj. We chatted over samosas, curry, and chai tea (amazing) Then Raj took me on a tour of the whole building starting with the terrace. Very Indian. The terrace that is, not Raj. In fact the terrace is probably more Indian than Raj. If I had been awake I would have seen it rain all day. The first rainfall of the year for them. My gift to you from Vancouver, You're welcome. It's still very warm and humid so the rain is actually really nice and refreshing. Like a warm shower. Jason would love it! The terrace is where I met Dingy. Another girl living on my same floor, has been living here 2 years. She is Indian, moved to Delhi to be a dietician. Sweet. She is currently interning at a hospital. She is my age and just full of funny. Super sweet. She will be moving into the room next door once the renovations are done so within the next week I'll have a neighbour! We will share a balcony. I have a balcony! 
The top floor has rooms, a kitchen, bathrooms, and wash machine. The bottom floor is the same with a common room and tv. I have access to all 3 floors. In the entrance there is a little garden area with swinging chairs and a mango tree that Raj's mother planted years and years ago. This is where you are to say your 15-20 minute goodbyes to friends etc, after a night or day out as they are not allowed to enter the building. No one but guests of the house are to enter. 
Later on we all sat in the living room (Raj, Dingy, and I) doing our own thing, Raj and me on our computers (I was blogging, naturally) and Dingy applying yogurt to her face- I have GOT to try this! Raj takes Iago out for playtime. And I mean playtime! This bird might as well have been a dog. I can't even describe. Ruffling feathers, pinned down wings, biting, playing dead (forcibly). And every time Raj got bit it was, "Dirty boy! You're a dirty bird!" Then it was "bath time". Turn on the tap full blast and drench the mighty Iago. I was mortified! But it keeps him cool and the bird seemed down. Like he had a choice...


MB brings us dinner (the 4 foot tissue nazi- they let me abbreviate names since I am incapable). Roti, some kind of root vegetable from the potato family (so delish) lentil soup, and cucumbers and onions covered in lemon juice and spices. Good golly! Then Dingy brings over a container of PICKLED MANGO. I can't even... whoa. I just- yikes. An explosion in your mouth of sweet but spicy then SOUR as all hell. Of course I ate it all wrong so they gave me a very intense tutorial on how to properly enjoy this divine, and mysterious creation. Yup, just like a typical canadian, popping the whole thing in your mouth is not the way it's done. Savouring and actually tasting our food is something we definitely lack. And then we had yogurt to balance out the orgy of flavours consuming my mouth. Raj says on a sunday one day we will have chicken for me. Dingy says she's excited to have me cook. Whoa, wait what? I said I'd make grilled cheese. She looked at me blankly. 


I spoke to Raj's daughter on the phone tonight after listening to him go off on her about using her play book in the dark and how unfortunate it will be when she has to wear giant ugly glasses. Then it was, why aren't you practicing guitar? And, Why was your Roger's bill $320 this month? Why didn't you call Rogers like I asked you to? You forgot? What kind of answer is that to give your father? You forgot. What if I forgot about you? What would you say to that? Oh, I forgot I have a daughter. 
I love it, I couldn't stop laughing. 
She says on the phone to me she has a cold but one day she will sing and play the guitar for me over the phone. Well child, in that case you better listen to your father and practice!


10:03am


This is awkward. AJ (another housekeeper) is cleaning my room right now with me in it. I keep getting in the way. I'll move to one place he's already cleaned thinking I'm safe, then he'll come back and clean it again like I'm contaminating his pristine space. And he hardly looks at me, barely speaks, just calls me Ma'am. Thanks AJ. And then I feel guilty for sitting there on my computer just watching him clean so I start cleaning. Then he starts doing what I'm doing and we both just stare at each other. Note to self: escape house by 9:30am to avoid awkward cleaning ritual I have unfortunately created. I woke up (got out of bed) at around 8:30 this morning- a solid 7 hours of on and off sleep, vast improvement I'd say. Then I braved my first shower, now that Raj has lent me one of his towels. It still has it's Superstore President's Choice tag on it. "It's a canadian towel! Just for you!" I wasn't gonna state that the chances of that towel actually being made in Canada were slim to none. The shower has no walls or curtains. It is a shower head on the bathroom wall next to the toilet, so needless to say the entire bathroom is soaked by the time you're finished. But it was kind of fun... I felt so free and liberated! And the bathroom itself is so bloody hot that the fact that there is no hot water is more of a blessing than anything else. Seriously, it's like taking a shower in a sauna. You're feeling cold water but your body is still warm as hell. And I'm pretty sure my hair is going to love me by the time this trip is over. Blow dryer? How bout sitting on my bed, under the ceiling fan at max and voila! Genius. 
The minute I got out of the shower both MB and AJ were in the hallway, "Good morning Miss! Chai tea?" Oh boys, you are angels. Truly angels. I could live off of their chai tea. Really. Just spectac. Starbucks, you will be shamed upon my return.


Side Note: I forgot to mention my bedroom door has a Tom and Jerry mat! First thing I saw when I got here and laughed. Favourite cartoon growing up, hands down (another sign Julie). Sorry my ADD kicked in as I scanned my room between sentences. My bad.


Honesty time: I google mapped places I want to go and it makes me contemplate hiding in my room for the next 2 months. Holy shit. Stay strong Chelsea. KIT. Put your big girl pants on and leave the hostel. 
Ummmmm, Arijeet is picking me up in the afternoon to help me run errands. I think I'll just wait for him. Baby steps. 




Tonight I am going to see the studio's year end dance production. This thing sounds amazing! All the students from all Danceworx locations (Delhi and Mumbai) come together to perform. The shows have over 2500 students.... There are four shows, one tonight and three tomorrow that I will be attending as well. The venue is a stadium, enough said. I am actually so excited. The next two days alone make this trip worth while. I have absolutely no idea what to expect and that makes it all the more exciting!


PS. Day time here at the hostel is soooo different from night. Raj is no where to be found, the girls are all at work or school, so it's me, AJ, MB, and #3 (ugh, for the life of me I just can't remember housekeeper #3's name. Sorry dude) Then on top of that, there are construction guys everywhere. They are even more awkward than MB, Aj, and #3 because they don't speak any english so they just stare at me, I look at them, smile and say hi (god knows why) then they look away. Right on.