What Goes Around

When I ride in a rickshaw I always seem to think it is worthy of blogging about. Tonight I tried to get a rickshaw to take me home, but none of them wanted to go my way. So I had to cross the horrible, crazy, suicidal road to catch one going the right direction. I waved and waved for one to stop. I saw many that were empty but for some reason they wouldn't stop. I start wondering, "Do I not know how to flag down a rickshaw?" I've watched people do it and I am doing what they are doing. "Am I in the wrong spot for them to stop?" Someone got picked up here just when I arrived after nearly getting run over crossing the street, so it has to be a fine place. "So what is the problem?" People stare at me. I wonder if I am doing something wrong or just a foreign woman. I wonder if they are thinking how silly I must be for not knowing how to get a rickshaw. My ego is crushed. Finally I get one to stop. He doesn't know my area, but I tell hi...

I just created the best tasting soup! Yep, right here in my own kitchen. Too bad I didn't write down my directions to pass on to a recipe book somewhere. I cut up some carrots, potatoes, an onion and some corn. Then I boiled those with water. Then I put in some chicken flavor cubes. My secret ingredient is a half packet of gravy mix, country gravy style, like what you put on biscuits and gravy. Then I shook in some Thai yellow curry powder. Presto!

That is the question of the day. I would hope that the answer is "no", but it seems many men think that they are animals. So who is right? Me, who is not a man? Or a man, who is a man? If the majority of men think that they are animals, is it true? Now my post is turning a bit to the adult conversation area, so please, no kids reading past this point. Men have used the excuse that if they weren't allowed to go to a prostitute that they would need to rape someone. Therefore, prostitution should be legalized. LAME! This logic suggests that sex is a "need" and must be gratified. It also suggests that rape is about sex. Has anyone died from not having sex? Go ask a monk. I've heard of people dying from no food or no sleep, but not from no sex. So now men must lower themselves to animal status in order to justify sex with a prostitute. They can't control themselves. It is instinct. Excuses like that. If you really believe that a man can't ...

Crossing the street here can be a lot like playing a live game of Frogger. Remember that video game that you have to jump the frog across the stream without him landing in the water? Well the way you lose this live game is that you get squished by a car. I have played it several times these last couple of days. To get across the busy streets here, you must be a risk-taker. I am not generally a risk-taker, but I love the feeling of accomplishing something so non-American. I feel like I am becoming Indian. Today I was still remembering my risks yesterday when I crossed over the bus lane and had a bus go by me so close I could touch it. So I decided to not be as risky in the road crossing game today. I chose to cross with the crowd. Unfortunately the crowd was only one person. He was talking on his cell phone as we crossed the street. So it seemed that he was a calm, confident sort of person. We got a third of the way across and he freaked out with the car heading right at us, ...

I have been obsessive lately about checking my stats on my blog and seeing where people are reading my blog. So I am interested in trying a little experiment. I need your help. I want to infect you with my blog virus and have you then infect those who read your blog. So what I am asking you to do is to put a link on your blog to my blog. Like just a quick comment that people can then come here and see this little experiment. Then if those people would also put a link/comment on their blog about my blog, and so forth and so forth. I want to see how far this virus of bloggy can reach before it takes over the world. Some people will be immune to it and it will stop there, but others of you will be so contagious that it can't be stopped. People don't have to keep reading my blog or give me money or anything like that, it is just an experiment. And no one will have good luck for reading anything I write.

Living in India is really living. There is so much more to experience. So much more to feel. I find I don't take things for granted. Even small things like a Coke. In the States I would walk to 7-11 daily to get a Big Gulp. It was easy. I enjoyed the walk. But here it isn't as easy. So I don't do it daily. It doesn't seem like a big deal to go to the market, but it just seems to take more effort. So when Steve brings me a Coke home from an outing he has been on, I appreciate it so much more. India is full of colors and sounds and smells. Beautiful birds are singing outside the window, which is open, and the smell of garbage is wafting in. We woke up this morning to the honk of a peacock outside. I've given up running to the window to try to find it because they seem to know and they stop honking. One day I looked out the window and saw a shepherd with his herd of goats, walking through the garbage area looking for grass. You see kids playing with stic...

I've said before in my blog that a few of the things I am fearful of are earthquakes, tsunamis, phones, and water. I know I could never be on the show Fear Factor because they would probably make me call someone while I was under water during an earthquake. Well last week when I was warm instead of freezing in Delhi, I faced two of those fears at the same time, water and tsunamis. We were at the beach in Goa, where it is warm instead of cold (did I say that already?) and I decided to go in the water. I went in the water last year too, trying to face those fears. This year I realized that when I am in the water I am still fearful. I stand facing the waves and think, "oh, here comes a big one." Not that I think the waves are tsunamis, but the waves just might kill me. I am always on the look-out for the tsunami though. So this year I decided to turn my back on the waves as they were coming towards me. And guess what? I didn't die. In fact I didn't even have...

We went to a wedding last night for a friend's daughter. She just turned 17. She married her cousin who is around 22. I decided to wear a sari. A sari is the long, six yards of material, indian dress. They really are beautiful. So I bought one and took it to the tailor to make a blouse for underneath and the lining. When I bought the sari the fabric seller told me that there was extra material for the blouse. And even when I took the sari to the tailor he said there was extra material. But when I picked it up from the tailor there was only the plain material blouse and not the pretty sari fabric blouse. He said there wasn't enough material. Since I have never been good at confrontation, and especially not in Hindi, I just said, "Thank you" and left. Other times when I have worn a sari I have had friends wrap it for me. But now we are in a new place and I don't really know the people around me, so I decided to wrap it myself. (That means to put it on) ...

This post is for my Mom, who thinks I have a toilet fetish. There are many different kinds of toilets in the world and they all hold a purpose. For instance, squatty potties are great when you don't want your bottom to pick up germs from the people who sit on it before you. Outhouses are good when there is no water. And the porcelain thrown is great for taking your time. But now on to my main point in this posting. Our toilet seat is so cold these days that I prefer to hover over it and get my work done quickly. Sometimes I forget and I sit down to a shocking, ice cold greeting. Today I had such a shock. In one of our bathrooms, we have a shelf about a foot in front of the toilet, which I have hit my head on more than once. Very small space. Today my shock and the shelf made contact. But one thing I love about toilets here is that there is usually a little sprayer near the toilet for those who like to clean with water. It comes in very handy. If I ever design my own bath...

On our little vacation in Goa, I read three books. The Visitor by Lee Child, The Confession by Grisham, and The Hard Way by Lee Child. The Visitor was my least favorite. A little too much R-rated material. Grisham always writes well and it almost seems like a true story. The other book, The Hard Way, was a good read. The main character is Jack Reacher, an ex-military guy who takes matters into his own hands to fight for justice. I am also reading the Bible. This is going to take me a bit longer to finish. We were challenged to read as much as we can and underline the verses that stand out to us. So I have been doing that since October I think. I am only in 2 Kings now. So I have a long way to go.

Yesterday was our flight back from Goa to freezing Delhi. We took an afternoon flight so that we could avoid arriving at night in case there was fog. But even with the best plans, we still arrived at 9PM. Our flight left a little after 3PM with an announcement "another on-time departure for Indigo Airline." It was a beautiful day, sunny and warm. We flew out over the ocean. The plane made a few weird noises, but nothing alarming. About 10 minutes into the flight I looked out and thought about what I was seeing. We were still only about 5000 feet up. I know that from my skydiving days when we went up to 10,000. Anyway, I thought to myself, "This seems odd. Why aren't we higher?" I thought about it a while and then told Steve that we were still pretty low and didn't seem to be going North. He wasn't concerned and just went back to reading. Then it occurred to me, "I don't think I heard the landing gear come up. I bet that is the prob...