Tuesday July 31'2012
1:45pm
The power has been going out on and off throughout the past few days. It sucks ass. When it happened 3 weeks ago it was fun, now it's just retarded. And hot. On sunday night (around 3 am) the power went out in all of Northern and Eastern India (apparently this has become world news). During this time, I just happen to be in a state worse than death. Since saturday, I have seriously considered ripping out my entire digestive system and running it over with an auto rickshaw. Several times. I have never felt that sick in my life. I know I've complained about having the plague and all since being here, but that was bullshit. That was me being a baby. THIS was the plague, I swear to gods, I thought it was over for me. I'd lived my life and it was going to end here, in India, next to my stupid enclosed shower, lying helpless on a dirty Indian floor.
It started around 4:30pm on Saturday, shortly after lunch. The same lunch that everyone else ate and didn't wind up praying for death to relieve them from such excruciating pain. I felt kind of nauseous but nothing serious and then I just puked. Blegh. Like that. And then I thought I was fine. Laid on the couch, focused on the little bollywood dancer boy on TV. Ten minutes later the flood gates opened, and I am telling you, it was a friggen tsunami. Over 5 hours of uninterrupted explosions of my innards becoming outards... from both ends. Did you read the 5 hours part? I'm not exaggerating. At 9:30pm I was still running (well more like dragging myself) back and forth to the bathroom. I really should have just camped out on the bathroom floor like I usually would at home, but that's more just for attention than anything else, so I never really considered it a logical position in this state. Not to take it too far, but I will, at one point I actually pooped and puked at the exact same time. Simultaneous and horribly aggressive poop pukes. Hey, you all wanna feel like you're here with me, living vicariously through me, it doesn't get any closer than that. Seriously though, I have never felt that incredibly ill. Ever. It was like I was being attacked by a malicious Punjabi gang (I'm from Vancouver, it makes sense). One was stabbing me repeatedly in the stomach, while another was pulling out my insides through my rectum with a rusted pair of old pliers, and finally another giving me the Heimlich equipped with brass knuckles (they are a very strong people). After 3 hours I could hardly make my way to the bathroom a foot from my door. I had nothing left inside of me. I was completely hollow, like the henis. Only it continued for another 2.5 hours. I was dying. This was it. I know I have a tendency for the dramatic, but this was for real. I cried. I did. I cried in between ralphs and poop shoots. I called my mom and Jason and cried some more. I was dying. Finally, my body came to the conclusion that I had hours before and decided there was nothing left to violently remove from my system and the death subsided. And I slept. When I woke on sunday I was such a skinny bitch, which was cool, but I had the energy and agility of an overweight sloth. I had some bread and tea and felt much better. We all decided to get me out of the house and head to Connaught Place (a british built market area). We browsed shops, saw Ice age 4. All day I felt great until around 10pm when my stomach started to boil over while I sat watching everyone eat south indian food at a restaurant in Connaught place (like hell I was gonna even attempt to go there) I could literally feel it bubbling and moving, just anticipating it's own mass expulsion. It calmed though, and I thought I was in the clear. Nope. 3am and death returned. This time bringing his friend, the power outage. How sweet that the two decided to sync up and simultaneously attack me. So I basically repeated the night prior, only now in pitch black and with no air conditioning. Just when you thought it couldn't get any worse. There is nothing worse than being deathly ill and trapped in a humid, sweaty, thick and stuffy room. I tried to open my balcony door for some "fresh air", but the varied smells of India only made my nausea escalate. India has got to be the worst place to be sick. The worst. I woke up on monday and headed straight for my suitcase. I'm getting the hell off this asshole of a continent. But I calmed myself, called my mom, moved my suitcase back into the corner of my room. I have decided to stay on the condition that Indian food and I will not associate, or even so much as acknowledge each other's presence for the remainder of my imprisonment. Bread, yogurt, and bananas, I love you. Anything else can rot in hell. Even you roti. Chai's ok. Chai can stay.
Wednesday Aug 1'2012
Religion is something that leaves a sweet yet sour taste in my mouth. I find it incredibly interesting and at the same time completely ridiculous. But here, here there is something different. It seems more honest here. Simple. Tonight I went to both a Hindu Temple and a Sikh Temple. Two worlds that derived from the same place could not be more different. (The Sikh religion actually stems from Hinduism. When hindus were being forced to convert to Muslims or face decapitation, hindu families gave their eldest son to become a punjabi, a warrior to defend against the muslims.) The Hindu Temple adorned with hordes of homeless people, dirty floors, smells, bugs, vendors. The Sikh Temple gold and prestige, silent, serene, spotless. What I loved about the Sikh temple, besides it's obviously gorgeous architecture, was it's doors. If you know me, you would know I have a strange fascination and obsession with doors. But it wasn't the look of these doors that drew me in, but what they symbolized. There are several entrances that surround the room of worship. These doors represent each religion. They are there to show that any and every religious follower is welcome in the temple. It does not matter who or what you believe in, their doors are always open to you. I couldn't believe it. All I could manage to let out was "wow". Repeatedly. I was even annoying myself. But it was wow. From a little christian girl's jaded perspective where she was taught that any religion other than her own was of the devil and those who followed would burn in hell, the idea of a religion so welcoming and loving towards others left me speechless.
On top of all this, the temple also doubles as a shelter for thousands of people every day. Rich or poor, young or old, Punjabi or Canadian. No matter who you are or where you come from there is a giant hall beside the temple that will serve you food whatever time of day it is, day or night. And this hall could easily host weddings, it was so incredibly beautiful. All this beauty, all the gold and marble, and stunning designs, all to humbly serve people. Not Punjabis, not hindus, but people. Wow. The Sikh temple was stunningly beautiful, and there was something about the place that made me feel incredibly grounded. It could have just been the pristine marble floors, but I'd like to believe it was more than that. Tonight made me want to believe in a lot more than that. Yes, the Sikh temple greatly outdid the Hindu temple in more ways than just it's beauty, but the Hindu temple made me feel something. Something very strong that still resonates from within me. I can't explain. Maybe because I had been to a hindu temple now once before and things felt familiar to me, but something felt so right as I kneeled before the intricately decorated spiritual figures. There was a connection. It wasn't necessarily a connection to the gods, I don't feel I know them well enough yet, but it was more a connection to myself. I felt like I was completely open. It was such a brief moment, but in it, it seemed to last the perfect length to be able to feel content within myself, a rare and incredibly satisfying feeling. I had allowed a very honest part of me to be released in the strangest of places. I didn't pray for much, I hardly thought at all. I simply asked for forgiveness. And in an instant my eyes filled with tears, and I felt so weak and yet so strong all at once. I felt me. I was in there somewhere, and had finally surfaced.
1:45pm
The power has been going out on and off throughout the past few days. It sucks ass. When it happened 3 weeks ago it was fun, now it's just retarded. And hot. On sunday night (around 3 am) the power went out in all of Northern and Eastern India (apparently this has become world news). During this time, I just happen to be in a state worse than death. Since saturday, I have seriously considered ripping out my entire digestive system and running it over with an auto rickshaw. Several times. I have never felt that sick in my life. I know I've complained about having the plague and all since being here, but that was bullshit. That was me being a baby. THIS was the plague, I swear to gods, I thought it was over for me. I'd lived my life and it was going to end here, in India, next to my stupid enclosed shower, lying helpless on a dirty Indian floor.
It started around 4:30pm on Saturday, shortly after lunch. The same lunch that everyone else ate and didn't wind up praying for death to relieve them from such excruciating pain. I felt kind of nauseous but nothing serious and then I just puked. Blegh. Like that. And then I thought I was fine. Laid on the couch, focused on the little bollywood dancer boy on TV. Ten minutes later the flood gates opened, and I am telling you, it was a friggen tsunami. Over 5 hours of uninterrupted explosions of my innards becoming outards... from both ends. Did you read the 5 hours part? I'm not exaggerating. At 9:30pm I was still running (well more like dragging myself) back and forth to the bathroom. I really should have just camped out on the bathroom floor like I usually would at home, but that's more just for attention than anything else, so I never really considered it a logical position in this state. Not to take it too far, but I will, at one point I actually pooped and puked at the exact same time. Simultaneous and horribly aggressive poop pukes. Hey, you all wanna feel like you're here with me, living vicariously through me, it doesn't get any closer than that. Seriously though, I have never felt that incredibly ill. Ever. It was like I was being attacked by a malicious Punjabi gang (I'm from Vancouver, it makes sense). One was stabbing me repeatedly in the stomach, while another was pulling out my insides through my rectum with a rusted pair of old pliers, and finally another giving me the Heimlich equipped with brass knuckles (they are a very strong people). After 3 hours I could hardly make my way to the bathroom a foot from my door. I had nothing left inside of me. I was completely hollow, like the henis. Only it continued for another 2.5 hours. I was dying. This was it. I know I have a tendency for the dramatic, but this was for real. I cried. I did. I cried in between ralphs and poop shoots. I called my mom and Jason and cried some more. I was dying. Finally, my body came to the conclusion that I had hours before and decided there was nothing left to violently remove from my system and the death subsided. And I slept. When I woke on sunday I was such a skinny bitch, which was cool, but I had the energy and agility of an overweight sloth. I had some bread and tea and felt much better. We all decided to get me out of the house and head to Connaught Place (a british built market area). We browsed shops, saw Ice age 4. All day I felt great until around 10pm when my stomach started to boil over while I sat watching everyone eat south indian food at a restaurant in Connaught place (like hell I was gonna even attempt to go there) I could literally feel it bubbling and moving, just anticipating it's own mass expulsion. It calmed though, and I thought I was in the clear. Nope. 3am and death returned. This time bringing his friend, the power outage. How sweet that the two decided to sync up and simultaneously attack me. So I basically repeated the night prior, only now in pitch black and with no air conditioning. Just when you thought it couldn't get any worse. There is nothing worse than being deathly ill and trapped in a humid, sweaty, thick and stuffy room. I tried to open my balcony door for some "fresh air", but the varied smells of India only made my nausea escalate. India has got to be the worst place to be sick. The worst. I woke up on monday and headed straight for my suitcase. I'm getting the hell off this asshole of a continent. But I calmed myself, called my mom, moved my suitcase back into the corner of my room. I have decided to stay on the condition that Indian food and I will not associate, or even so much as acknowledge each other's presence for the remainder of my imprisonment. Bread, yogurt, and bananas, I love you. Anything else can rot in hell. Even you roti. Chai's ok. Chai can stay.
Wednesday Aug 1'2012
Religion is something that leaves a sweet yet sour taste in my mouth. I find it incredibly interesting and at the same time completely ridiculous. But here, here there is something different. It seems more honest here. Simple. Tonight I went to both a Hindu Temple and a Sikh Temple. Two worlds that derived from the same place could not be more different. (The Sikh religion actually stems from Hinduism. When hindus were being forced to convert to Muslims or face decapitation, hindu families gave their eldest son to become a punjabi, a warrior to defend against the muslims.) The Hindu Temple adorned with hordes of homeless people, dirty floors, smells, bugs, vendors. The Sikh Temple gold and prestige, silent, serene, spotless. What I loved about the Sikh temple, besides it's obviously gorgeous architecture, was it's doors. If you know me, you would know I have a strange fascination and obsession with doors. But it wasn't the look of these doors that drew me in, but what they symbolized. There are several entrances that surround the room of worship. These doors represent each religion. They are there to show that any and every religious follower is welcome in the temple. It does not matter who or what you believe in, their doors are always open to you. I couldn't believe it. All I could manage to let out was "wow". Repeatedly. I was even annoying myself. But it was wow. From a little christian girl's jaded perspective where she was taught that any religion other than her own was of the devil and those who followed would burn in hell, the idea of a religion so welcoming and loving towards others left me speechless.
On top of all this, the temple also doubles as a shelter for thousands of people every day. Rich or poor, young or old, Punjabi or Canadian. No matter who you are or where you come from there is a giant hall beside the temple that will serve you food whatever time of day it is, day or night. And this hall could easily host weddings, it was so incredibly beautiful. All this beauty, all the gold and marble, and stunning designs, all to humbly serve people. Not Punjabis, not hindus, but people. Wow. The Sikh temple was stunningly beautiful, and there was something about the place that made me feel incredibly grounded. It could have just been the pristine marble floors, but I'd like to believe it was more than that. Tonight made me want to believe in a lot more than that. Yes, the Sikh temple greatly outdid the Hindu temple in more ways than just it's beauty, but the Hindu temple made me feel something. Something very strong that still resonates from within me. I can't explain. Maybe because I had been to a hindu temple now once before and things felt familiar to me, but something felt so right as I kneeled before the intricately decorated spiritual figures. There was a connection. It wasn't necessarily a connection to the gods, I don't feel I know them well enough yet, but it was more a connection to myself. I felt like I was completely open. It was such a brief moment, but in it, it seemed to last the perfect length to be able to feel content within myself, a rare and incredibly satisfying feeling. I had allowed a very honest part of me to be released in the strangest of places. I didn't pray for much, I hardly thought at all. I simply asked for forgiveness. And in an instant my eyes filled with tears, and I felt so weak and yet so strong all at once. I felt me. I was in there somewhere, and had finally surfaced.
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