Well, after a few interesting unintended highlights, we finally arrived in India. Again. We did a nice little detour through Frankfurt, Germany and got to spend the night for FREE with all kinds of FREE food vouchers, thanks to United Airlines. (More on that later) In less than 24 hours we managed to eat everything in sight. Why didn't I think to stuff my pockets with food? I knew we were going to be in India for three weeks. I knew there's nothing worth eating in India. I just wasn't thinking. Or more to the point, Mike's along for the ride with me this time. I can't steal stuff when he's around.
So here we are in India. Again. The first time a person visits India, it's an "Innocents Abroad" kind of deal. If a person goes to India a second time, it's sheer stupidity. Mike fits the first description. Sort of. It's not that I didn't warn him. I most definitely fit the second definition. I'm a crazy, whacked-out, stupid person. I freely admit it.
I've been stifling impulses to laugh since the moment we walked out of the Chennai Airport and into the chaos of India. Watching Mike's face and his reaction to what he's seeing is priceless. And sweet. I want to help. I really do. But I wind up laughing.
Here's where the servant deal comes in. India's poor are housemaids, drivers, cooks, gardeners, and who knows what else, but there's LOTS of them. No matter where you stay, you're going to turn around in a very small space and there will be about five sweet faces watching your every move. You can't pick up an errant potato chip from off of the floor yourself. I haven't decided if the Indian people have figured out that we white people are helpless, infantile, paralyzed, morons, or if they really like being helpful. But let me tell you a little secret. You will never do anything private or personal again without minute examination and endless chatter and giggling.
Mike has been startled out of his wits at least a half a dozen times today. It's like watching a really scary stalker movie except this one is really happening.
Nobody can say nothing quite as long as I can. Right? For anyone who wants to know what's ACTUALLY going on, we're doing just fine. With the help of a menagerie of drivers, cooks, housecleaners, smilers, wavers, and gigglers. And we're not exactly staying at the Ritz Carlton. We are truly living with the Indians this time around. Mike is even wearing a Lungi - not exactly a diaper, but only because he refuses to take off his shorts. Wow. I never knew I had such an entertaining husband.
Well, love and kisses to all of you civilized people drinking potable water, eating edible food, and enjoying the cool weather - the weather is cooler everywhere than here in India. Enjoy your pleasant trips to the Grocery Store and the absence of witnessing public personal hygiene.
The servants are all smiling, waving, and giggling at you. Okay, everybody. All together now. SMILE!
So here we are in India. Again. The first time a person visits India, it's an "Innocents Abroad" kind of deal. If a person goes to India a second time, it's sheer stupidity. Mike fits the first description. Sort of. It's not that I didn't warn him. I most definitely fit the second definition. I'm a crazy, whacked-out, stupid person. I freely admit it.
I've been stifling impulses to laugh since the moment we walked out of the Chennai Airport and into the chaos of India. Watching Mike's face and his reaction to what he's seeing is priceless. And sweet. I want to help. I really do. But I wind up laughing.
Here's where the servant deal comes in. India's poor are housemaids, drivers, cooks, gardeners, and who knows what else, but there's LOTS of them. No matter where you stay, you're going to turn around in a very small space and there will be about five sweet faces watching your every move. You can't pick up an errant potato chip from off of the floor yourself. I haven't decided if the Indian people have figured out that we white people are helpless, infantile, paralyzed, morons, or if they really like being helpful. But let me tell you a little secret. You will never do anything private or personal again without minute examination and endless chatter and giggling.
Mike has been startled out of his wits at least a half a dozen times today. It's like watching a really scary stalker movie except this one is really happening.
Nobody can say nothing quite as long as I can. Right? For anyone who wants to know what's ACTUALLY going on, we're doing just fine. With the help of a menagerie of drivers, cooks, housecleaners, smilers, wavers, and gigglers. And we're not exactly staying at the Ritz Carlton. We are truly living with the Indians this time around. Mike is even wearing a Lungi - not exactly a diaper, but only because he refuses to take off his shorts. Wow. I never knew I had such an entertaining husband.
Well, love and kisses to all of you civilized people drinking potable water, eating edible food, and enjoying the cool weather - the weather is cooler everywhere than here in India. Enjoy your pleasant trips to the Grocery Store and the absence of witnessing public personal hygiene.
The servants are all smiling, waving, and giggling at you. Okay, everybody. All together now. SMILE!
Dad will never be the same again.
ReplyDeleteTruer words were never spoken. He looks pretty darn good in a lungi. He would look better if he would take off his shorts. So sorry about your inheritance.
ReplyDeleteYour hubby is wearing a lungi??? Short or long? I guess if it's hot enough you'll wear anything. tee hee. Ok I have a confession to make about the servants and crowds of people staring and giggling: I'm happy that youreinindiaandimnot! Hope things go well and can't wait to hear the next installment. Please try to make this a snake-free visit.
ReplyDeleteI would love to be a little elf and watch Mike's reactions to India. Hold those sweet memories in your heart...that is why you love that man. Not every man would do for you and with you the things Mike does...Well maybe a Brad would..... Hahahaha....have fun and live every moment!
ReplyDeleteDi
Brad would. Brad most definitely would. :)
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