I Can Swallow Without Pain!

Cipro is magic. That is all.

No, wait:

» I had a dream last night that I went to cheerleading camp with Heather (one of my closest friends and carpooling mate, circa 1988) and I could do the splits. Uplifted by this sudden flexibility, I tried to do the splits when I woke up. Sadly, about five inches still hover between me and the floor.

» Ganesh brought me breakfast this morning, along with a special tiny banana that he said had Ayurvedic healing powers. It looked--and tasted--the same as every other tiny banana that I've eaten in India, but who was I to tell Ganesh this?

» Why are my beloved Death Cab playing in Lawrence the night I return to the States after my gazillion-hour journey? Why?

In Which More Men Figure It Out

I gave up this morning and let Room Boy Ganesh call the doctor. Cheeky bastard couldn't resist this gem, could he? "Oh, I wish madam had let me call doctor yesterday." Okay, Ganesh, enough.

The very nice doctor declared me to be suffering from a tonsil infection, told me to take my Cipro (what a prepared traveler am I!) and gargle saltwater, and I should be feeling fine soon. Let's hope so. (Oh, and the cost of my house call? Rs 400. A little less than ten dollars. Less than my co-pay to see my normal doctor, for whom I usually wait about, oh, two hours to see.)

I think getting high on antihistamines prevented me from writing about the other excitement around these parts: my palm-reading. Basically, I am now looking forward to 29 like nobody's business. The palm reader said that after 29, I will find the man with whom I will spend the rest of my life (about time), I will get married to him, I will have children, and oh yeah, something about huge amounts of professional success and financial well-being. Then he said, in ominous tones, "If you get married before 29, it will not work out." I didn't want to disappoint him by explaining that the chances of me getting married in the next fourteen months were slim to none, but hey.

Blue at the Lagoon

I am hurting, people.

I've read all the British and Indian mags Davina has to offer, and I've learned that Indian Cosmo is just as racy. Who knew?

When not taking quizzes on my sex appeal, I am doped up on antihistamines (I don't think they're doing anything, but I like them because they're pink) and getting about 16 hours of sleep. I would feel worse about this if the weather hadn't soured hugely. Oh yes, and I read Love in the Time of Cholera, and You Are Not a Stranger Here and then The Backpacker, only because a copy of it was hanging around here (don't bother) and I've been needlepointing, too.

Because I am, let's be honest, not operating at my normal mental capacity, I decided that there's no better time to kick Coffee than when you're already sick and miserable.

Not that I'm keeping track, but this is the third time this year I've found myself in a paradise-like locale and have been too illin' to enjoy it. What is the Universe trying to tell me?

Ganesh the Room Boy is working it Jewish grandmother style, looking at me and my plate sadly when he sees that I have eaten two bites of dinner and proclaiming, "Madam is not well" to the others. Like all good Jewish matrons, he hasn't grasped the difference between lonely and alone, and keeps inadvertently insulting me with the former when he means the latter. He then looks sad again when I refuse his offers to introduce me to other guests. Sorry, I just can't be social when I'm sick.

One more thing before I go back to bed for the day: I rode into town yesterday and saw an elephant on the side of the road. An elephant! That made me feel better for a brief moment.

Sick!

I spent a day in the sun, in an effort to tan my legs to match my feet (yeah, you read right--I have tan feet!) and promptly turned all exposed areas the color of strawberry ice cream. Which wouldn't be so bad if I hadn't woken up yesterday unable to swallow without immense pain and effort. I want my mommy!

"Bec, It's Bec!"

Back in my room, finishing up packing in my nightgown, I heard a knock at the door, which I ignored, and then another one, and then "Bec, it's Bec!" so I opened up to find Rebecca, whose travel agent had put her departure date on her itinerary as that night, but her ticket for the night before. There was no room on the departing flight for Sydney, so she returned. There's nothing worse than being stranded when you want to be somewhere else, but I was so happy to not have to spend the night alone.

I got off to the airport Sunday morning with little drama, after Rebecca braided (sorry, plaited) my hair for the last time, though I felt bad about leaving her alone. Thankfully, her travel agent will eat the cost of sending her back to Sydney via business class on the first flight available.

So it was off to Thiruvananthapuram on Indian Airlines, where they give you really decent snacks, and then I was met by Ganesh, my "room boy" at the crazy Lagoona Davina and I've been mellowing since.

First is the fact that I have a room boy (their term, not mine). Davina herself is a Brit who opened her Keralan hideaway after coming here and loving it--it's pretty easy to see why. We're on a lagoon, and the sea is visible and audible from just a bit beyond. There are fourteen rooms, all with a theme (mine is horse) and sari fabric covering everything from the windows to the container for Q-tips. It's the perfect blend of bohemia and pampering.

The food is, thus far, just what I've been craving: sugar-free ice cream, fish straight from the sea, yummy salads (washed in filtered water!) and ice (made with mineral water). Things could not be more different than the Hotel California.

Did I mention that Davina has a little boutique with her own designs?

Navratri

Padmini invited us (Natalie, Mark, Rebecca and me) over for Navratri and Rebecca and I went totally Indian--braids with jasmine, salwaars, bindis, tons of jewelry. Vijaya told me I was looking "very gorgeous" when we came in, and Padmini said that I should dress like that more often.

So Navratri is a nine-night festival that involves displaying dolls representing various deities; it makes a mere manger set look half-assed. Their display filled a room, and people were invited over in an open-house manner to view the dolls. The doctor, always hoping to enlighten, pointed out gods and goddesses of note (and I can finally recognize a few myself), then Maitri came over to offer us sandalwood oil, red paste for our foreheads, sugar, and more jasmine for our hair.

It was the perfect last evening in Chennai--Vijaya sang a few songs, we talked to an array of Padmini's interesting friends; it's striking how mainstream astrology and palmistry are here. We met a retired Indian Intelligence officer who reads palms. He reassured me that I have not one but two relationship/companionship lines. Whew.

We headed back to the Hotel California so Rebecca could get to the airport, and Mark and Natalie and I went to the weird cafe nearby.

Last Moments in Chennai

Saturday morning, Noel came over and gave my hair a much-needed trim in between one of our coffee-fueled boy discussions. Then I headed to my last session at the Mandiram and said goodbye to all my teachers.

I stopped by San Thome Cathedral because I'd heard it has some great iconography (Jesus on a lotus blossom, the Virgin Mary in a sari, etc.) but I couldn't find them anywhere. I walked into the museum out back, where fossils and bones and a bone shard from Saint Thomas--Doubting Thomas, that is--are all displayed in glass cases without climate control or other nods to modernity. I asked the man working there about the paintings and he informed me that they were being restored (in fact, the entire complex is being restored--morning mass was held in a tent) and sort of implied that they were in a basement nearby; I tried to get him to take me there but had no success. I asked if there were photos, and he led me to a locked(!) case to look at them. So basically, I could've thrown the bone shard into my backpack, but god forbid I touch the photo.

Rebecca and I met up with a group at Amethyst--a nice goodbye since we'd skipped dinner the night before, and Mick and I decided that their cappuccinos were the best in Chennai. So we each had two.