India - the Prequel - Part 4 - 12/05

When is a bite not a bite?

A mysterious thing happened at dinner last night - while we were waiting for our dinner companions to arrive - I started feeling like I had 7 or 8 insect bites on my legs. They were itching like crazy all through dinner and on the ride home. I didn’t feel the actual bites happening before the itch - which you certainly do with mosquitoes. I envisioned Malaria et al but calmed down enough to try and figure out what they were - maybe fleas? Those guys are so fast you never know they’ve been until you start to itch. I am more prone to insect bites than most people - always have been since a child. So I went over this batch with antiseptic wipes and turned in. Presto change-o, next morning, no welts, no bites and no more itching, at all! I’ve heard about hysterical blindness and hysterical pregnancy - can one get hysterical mosquito bites?

The occasion for the dinner was to bid farewell to a coworker of David’s that is leaving the company for a new job and to move back to his wife’s home town of Trivandram in Kerala. George and his wife Bhuton were to join us with their two boys named Vibin (3yo) and Sibin (1yo). Sibin had been feeling sick earlier in the day so we didn’t know if they’d be able to come or not but they soon arrived with both boys. Sibin was dressed for snow with a Polar fleece jacket and pants and a balaclava. Locals are chilled during this weather and she was taking no chances. I had a constant river of dew down the front and back the whole time as we were eating on the roof of the building. It’s truly amazing what a difference a ceiling fan can make when there is no air conditioning. For me it’s the difference between swooning and remaining upright. We exchanged gifts and had a very pleasant time.

Everyone seems to adore and cherish all children; the parents, the wait staff, everyone! Sibin was pretty cranky and still not feeling well until they brought out a plate of chips for the boys - then they both transformed under the mystic aura of potatoes that has so many of us in thrall. I cut up chicken and shrimp so Bhuton could grab the occasional bite between bouts of walking little Mister Fussy around until his food came. Both boys were adorable and really good once they relaxed. Parents put a little silver bracelet (or two) with tiny bells around the ankles of their children at the one and two-year points - I don’t know if it goes beyond that. They are terribly cute and the little ones all love the tiny bells tinkling while they walk.

When the going gets tough - the tough go shopping.

The husband gives me a few errands every day - send in the laundry - check on some matter at home in the U.S.; get brochures from the Tourist Office - nothing onerous. Today I failed utterly Dear Readers. My only assignment was to find a bank and stop in to change bigger bills for smaller ones so we’d have tip money on hand. I set out and was turned away at the first bank (they didn’t do change) with convoluted advice as to where they next one was located. I started to walk there - honest I did! Then I passed by a shop selling shawls, scarves and miscellaneous tablecloths and bedspreads. This is the first shop selling fabrics I’d actually seen close to the hotel so I wandered in. Three men and a woman were sitting around a table in back and as soon as they noticed me they all jumped up about a foot in their seats and leaped up as if they were busted in an illegal gambling den. They rushed toward me and surrounded me. As I walked from pile to pile if my eye or my hand lighted on anything it was immediately whisked out of its plastic wrapper with five or six of its brethren for handy contrast. I started being more careful where I looked so I wouldn’t encourage dewrappering and flourishing as much. I saw some pashmina and silk scarves and must have let a bit of drool slip from one corner of my mouth as they owner took over with an assistant and everything else faded into the background. They must have whipped out 30 scarves in the time it took me to sit down on the handy chair provided. They would drape a scarf over a wrist and then keep adding up to their neck and down the other arm so I could see how they looked. I asked the price and with a “special discount” it was 360 Rupees. Sounds like a lot doesn’t it? I’ve had to memorize various levels of Rupees as math has never been my friend and I can convert on the spot. These scarves felt lovely on and the colors were wonderful. Plus, they way they are woven, the colors all reversed on the back. They were insisting one side was the “Monday” scarf and one side was the “Tuesday” scarf. I never know if prices are fixed or if you are expected to bargain and where it’s considered normal. I picked out seven and was asking if there was any further discount when I realized. 360 Rs. Is about $7.35!!!! Of course that meant they were definitely not pashmina but they felt great! I may have to go back tomorrow.

SO - that took care off all the big bills that I’d been given to change. Go home? Nah! I decided to be more courageous and tackle the downtown shopping area. I wandered up through the shops, running the gauntlet at each and every intersection. I’ve tried a new tack. I position myself as close as possible behind a shopping matron and when she sets foot off the curb, I am her shadow. Even though I speak Horn, only a local understands if the various vehicles really will back down and we will live to shop another day. Occasionally I felt a total melt-down coming on and I’d dive into a tea shop and order bottled water. I finally found a shop that sold lots of plastic things; bins, tubs, totes, etc. I went in and assembled my pile of plastic tubs to organize things in the hotel room (no dressers - they are doing Hi-Trendy) and hangers (we were given three - we’ll be here two to three months) and a shopping tote. The total came to 385 Rs. Having shot my (his) wad on the scarves, I now found I had only 285 Rs. Ooops! And he’d already written it all up. And I’d already asked him jokingly if he’d called me a silly woman in Tamil after I refused 2 or 3 of the attempts to find me the right bins. I was ready to leave the lot if he’d hold it for the next day but he insisted I give him only 240 Rs. And I could take everything with me except for one set of hangers which he would hold hostage for my return. What a prince!!! Off I went with 25 Rs. - the amount I knew I needed to grab an auto rickshaw for the ride back to the hotel. One found me and I told him I only had 25 (a normal fare but best to agree beforehand) and would he take me for that? “Let’s GO!” he said. Now I’m waiting for himself to come home so I can beg more money to race back to the Prince’s store and pay off my debt - and then confess over dinner to having sold out my errands to soft shiny things.