Today is a lazy day. I am completely okay with it-- that's the luxury of being across the world from my to-do list. I have spend the better part of two weeks doing a lot of nothing. My agenda pretty much goes as follows: wake up, bathe, eat, do nothing, eat, nap, do some more nothing, eat again, Skype with Will, go to sleep. I am getting pretty spoiled and pretty fat. Actually I won't be be able to accurately judge my weight gain until I go home, I've been wearing a lot of Indian dresses that are rather accommodating in the midsection. Heck yes. Except when I get home and I'm sobbing because my love handles are busting out the seams of my "fat pants". I haven't seen myself in a full length mirror since I came here, and I strategically plan on avoiding one for at least a week after I get home. They put a high priority on eating here as it is, but come to India pregnant and expect to do literally nothing but sit and eat. If ever I reject a meal (which, let's be honest, is not often), I get a nice scolding in which the only discernable words are "baby" "take care" and "need to eat". I'm gathering by inference that they think you're literally starving your fetus if you don't plan to pack on a minimum of 50 pounds over the duration of your pregnancy. Don't worry aunties, because of you I just might. How can I deny the food though? I mean, have you ever had Indian food? Now multiply it's goodness by about a million, because the American version is garbage compared to the real deal. I mean, come on, I met a lovely hen at lunchtime and ate it for dinner. It doesn't come more fresh than that. I also drink milk straight from the buffalo. Ok don't panic, it goes into a bucket first. We don't talk about the fat content. I don't care that if it were packaged it would actually be classified as half and half. I am having my cake and eating it too.
I really consider today a good day, because I got to have hot water with this morning's bathing experience. Hallelujah! I take for granted the glory of a hot shower. I squint my eyes and cross my all of my digits and hope the water will run hot. Usually no dice. Today I was patient and waited while they boiled some for me. Here, a "shower" means filling a bucket with water and using a smaller bucket to pour said water on yourself. It gets the job done but is by no means anything more than that. At least this time around I had the presence of mind to invest in some quality hair products, because this white girl's hair does not do well with what is available here. The water is different and there's just no living up to American salon quality products. Last time I was here it was literally a chore to run a brush through my hair. I think I came back stateside 50% balder, leaving half of my hair still attached to my brush. It was terrible. I would con various friends and family members into the arm workout that was brushing my hair. Thank you, Redken, for saving me from acquiring arm muscles bigger than my husband's and looking like I suffer from male pattern baldness. Sometimes being accustom to this culture means knowing what not to skimp on while packing.
The afternoon is the longest part of the day for me. The hours drag by between lunch and bedtime. Usually not much to keep me occupied and no one to talk to. Everyone back home is asleep, and it'll be hours before they wake up. We aren't really allowed to adventure about, because 1. I'm a girl 2. I don't know where I'm going and don't know how to ask 3. I'm white and so I'll probably get kidnapped and die. Okay I might have exaggerated that last one a tad. But it is pretty hard to walk around the village and explore without getting stares or getting laughed at or getting approached by someone. I wish being white wasn't such a hot commodity here, because blending in a little would really make it easier to experience the culture. I want to see the scenes, not be the scene. Today my father-in-law is heading into town to bring me more guavas and Maaza, because I'm spoiled like that. I asked him how far to town because I am bored and want come come along for the ride. He said it was an hour. Lawl, I am not driving an hour for guavas and mango juice. I think I'll take another 3405807895 pictures of a coconut tree and take a nap.
I really consider today a good day, because I got to have hot water with this morning's bathing experience. Hallelujah! I take for granted the glory of a hot shower. I squint my eyes and cross my all of my digits and hope the water will run hot. Usually no dice. Today I was patient and waited while they boiled some for me. Here, a "shower" means filling a bucket with water and using a smaller bucket to pour said water on yourself. It gets the job done but is by no means anything more than that. At least this time around I had the presence of mind to invest in some quality hair products, because this white girl's hair does not do well with what is available here. The water is different and there's just no living up to American salon quality products. Last time I was here it was literally a chore to run a brush through my hair. I think I came back stateside 50% balder, leaving half of my hair still attached to my brush. It was terrible. I would con various friends and family members into the arm workout that was brushing my hair. Thank you, Redken, for saving me from acquiring arm muscles bigger than my husband's and looking like I suffer from male pattern baldness. Sometimes being accustom to this culture means knowing what not to skimp on while packing.
The afternoon is the longest part of the day for me. The hours drag by between lunch and bedtime. Usually not much to keep me occupied and no one to talk to. Everyone back home is asleep, and it'll be hours before they wake up. We aren't really allowed to adventure about, because 1. I'm a girl 2. I don't know where I'm going and don't know how to ask 3. I'm white and so I'll probably get kidnapped and die. Okay I might have exaggerated that last one a tad. But it is pretty hard to walk around the village and explore without getting stares or getting laughed at or getting approached by someone. I wish being white wasn't such a hot commodity here, because blending in a little would really make it easier to experience the culture. I want to see the scenes, not be the scene. Today my father-in-law is heading into town to bring me more guavas and Maaza, because I'm spoiled like that. I asked him how far to town because I am bored and want come come along for the ride. He said it was an hour. Lawl, I am not driving an hour for guavas and mango juice. I think I'll take another 3405807895 pictures of a coconut tree and take a nap.
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