Pants and monkeys

I’ve seriously considered re-naming my blog: Pants and Monkeys (..and perhaps some other things).

Because let’s.be.honest, that is all I ever.write.about.

But alas, it is probably too late in the game for that.

In today’s news…

I wore a ‘Western-style’ shirt with my gold ‘Aladdin’ pants to work today.

When I did this several weeks ago, a teenage girl who goes to school across the street from my office said, “You are looking sweet today, madam.”

Today, as I was leaving the office, a woman who was probably in her late 30s (but who seemed middle aged) looked me up and down as if to say, “Girl, you are dressed like a crazy person….., madam.”

Which is probably about the same sentiment I would get if I wore this outfit in the States.. which I absolutely intend to do come May.  I doubt I’ll be getting the fashion props from teenagers in America, though.

Side note: I’d call the pants ‘Jasmine’ pants, but that is completely absurd.  There are no pants for ladies in India that tie below the bellybutton. (Which, among other things, is how you know Aladdin doesn’t take place in India...)

Also, this morning the monkeys wanted very badly to join in on the office work.  They climbed in through the windows once. They were reluctant to leave despite the noises and hand gestures, but alas they did. The windows were closed after they were chased out.

Then, much to my delight, they broke in again – and by broke in, I mean quietly opened the window that had not been properly closed.  Again they were loudly shooed away.  And the window was properly closed – sigh.

Later we heard the monkeys screeching at each other outside and loud bangs of people scaring them away.  Silly humans. It’s not like they are pigeons or something.  They are monkeys.  You should welcome them.

But I guess not everyone feels the same as I do.

Today I miss...

Today I miss these snuggle-boos.

Even more questions that need answers

This is my 'what is going on' face.

Some days I just want to understand everything that happens in my 16-waking-hours.  Just for one day.   

If you have experienced a day like this recently, you have probably taken that for granted.  I envy you that.

This brings me to "Even more questions..." Things I haven’t understood lately:

• What is soooo interesting about my appearance? (Really, don’t I look human to you, and not like some alien life form sent to Hyderabad to entertain earthlings?)
• Similarly, what do strangers do with pictures they take of me?
• Moreover, why is talking to me hilarious? (Children and shop girls often giggle when I talk to them.)
• Why won't Indian travel and entertainment websites accept international debit/credit card payments?
• Why is it ok to throw bags of trash into the lake?
• How can so many things that are not true be scientifically proven?
• Why did the woman with the baby move to the doorway of the half empty bus with no intention of getting off at that stop, making me push around her to get off?
• Why, when I ask for clarification or explanation, do people simply repeat exactly what they just said, as if repetition is the same as clarification?  (I blame the rote learning.)
• SO MUCH ELSE, EVERY DAY.

This is my 'fine, India, whatever' face

At this point there are also things, once normal and mundane, that now puzzle me:

A couple of weeks ago I went out to dinner with friends.  Upon leaving the restaurant, a member of the wait staff said, “Thank you. Have a nice day.”

The response in my head was one of shock, “What just happened? What did he just say?”  Followed by the irrational thought, “He only said that because we are American, didn’t he?  Is he mocking us?  Why doesn’t he just treat us the same as he does everyone else?”

India has done strange things to me.

 Like making me think putting our friend in a cannon is a fun idea..

Don't understand what is going on here? I do.

I hope that you enjoy your probably predictable, normal, everyday day.  Cherish it.

Don't stand so close to me

Sometimes I want to start singing this song on the bus or in a shop or just standing on a street..



Dear all of India,

Please, don't stand so close to me.

Yours truly,
This Introverted Chocoholic Who Likes Her Personal Space

Maybe I'm Amazed

There are two things in life that keep me (and probably most of you) relatively sane.  One is that throughout my life I have been blessed beyond comprehension to know wonderful friends and family.  That is number one.

The second is that I am able, from time to time, to be overly amazed by very simple things.

If you’ve ever taken a walk with me, or if you have talked to me in the past several months, or if you read my blog occasionally, you know that the simple thing that usually amazes me beyond what is reasonable is an animal.  (If you need to catch up, see here, here, here, or even pre-India, here.)

Today I was amazed by a tree.  This tree, to be exact:

It grows in the Old City, mere blocks from Charminar.  You remember Charminar, the one thing people travel to Hyderabad to see; the place filled with jewelry markets and antiques and crowds of people.  It grows there, cramped between shops and homes. It grows tall and wild.  It grows old. It grows strong and steadfast.

It amazes me, standing there adorned with kites from this weekend’s Sankranti festival, with its ability to withstand all of it. It amazes me with its defiance to grow there amidst its surroundings.  It defies to be strong and radiant and existing, thriving and intricate – despite its environment polluted by smog and trash and people, by strife and trials and people. Despite the odds, despite all of these things, it goes on, it thrives.

That’s amazing.

P.S. Sorry the tree picture isn’t so great. 

As a foreigner – especially in the Old City – I could not simply stand on the roadside long enough to get a good picture.

No, my stopping even for a second, even before I dared to take out my camera, led to a line of autos bidding for their chance to tour me around the city, at least three helpful pairs of people on scooters trying to give me directions, and a woman asking for “10 rupees only, madam” in perfect English.   

So the picture suffered a little.  Apologies.

P.P.S I want the pants displayed in the store front by Charminar.  You do too - you just may not know it yet.

Hey, hey, we're the Monkeys.

In case you needed more monkeys in your life. And if you're being honest with yourself, you'll admit that there are never enough monkeys in your life.

A small sample of monkeys I've come across in India:

So'dorable monkeys

Sassy monkey

Too-cool monkey

Uber-chill monkey

This guy

World Heritage monkeys

Acrobatic monkeys

Monkey buddies

And so many more.. if you only knew.

When I'm not wearing my Party Pants

This morning I woke up with one distinct thought:

I do not want to put on pants today. I don’t, I don’t, I don’t.

It was subsequently followed by this thought:

I don’t want to put on a loose-fitting shirt or wear a scarf, either.   

But mostly it was:

I don’t want to put on pants.

Today, I miss skirts and dresses.  This feeling has nothing to do with my desire to be fashionable – we all know I have no inclination for that.  I would simply like to acknowledge the fact that I have legs.  The poor things have been neglected as of late.

As a compromise, I put on a pair of too big cropped trousers (and a loose-fitting shirt and a scarf).   But I wasn’t happy about it…  Neither was the man who glared at me more intensely than I have been glared at in a while when I walked to the bus stop.  How dare I wear Western clothing in not-Banjara-Hills and walk down the street? Imagine if I’d put on a skirt, like I wanted to.

(Also, if I put on a skirt, I’d have to shave my legs.  There are tradeoffs in this life, I suppose.)

(This is because I don't have a picture that fits and I feel like Liz Lemon would feel the same as me about pants.)

Man, what a pain it would be to be a man and wear pants everyday for the rest of your life.  That’s just boring.