A mall, the Taj and a non-flushing toilet

We arrived in Delhi, thankful to have flown down versus driven and eager to explore a city. We jumped on the metro (surprisingly clean for India) and walked through a couple bazaars and parks. For Oliver's birthday we were surprised with a cake by the owners of our bed and breakfast. Oliver had only two bites and was crazy-high on sugar, running around the table and turning over plates looking for more. Andy's dad, Chuck, joined us on Christmas eve. We took Oliver to the zoo because it was closed on his birthday. We rode in a rickshaw to and from the zoo and though Andy and I were white-knuckled, sucking in our breath, Chuck was....zzzzzzzzzz.....sound asleep. Been there. He was pretty upside down from jet lag.

Oliver dazzled us with a new word every day in Delhi; "dog", "wow", "down", "me"...he is up to about 15 words. It is so much fun to chat with him. His favorite word is still "pretty".
He said it non-stop when we went to a mall after the zoo to see the Christmas display. The huge tree was "pretty!" The lights strung along the courtyard, "pretty!" the Indian band alternating between Backstreet Boys and Christmas carols, "pretty!" Had we been in Chicago for Christmas and you asked me the last place I would want to be, I would have answered "a mall." No place would be more maddening. The crowds, pushing, the noise and horrible lighting. But for some reason I found this mall...comforting. The lights were exactly what I needed to see, the carols exactly what I wanted to hear. Oliver had a great time and Andy was able to get a decent pizza for dinner, a true Christmas miracle.

We hired a driver to take us to Agra to see the Taj Mahal. We strapped Oliver into his American car seat that Chuck kindly brought Over for us and we were off! Dodging water buffalo, elephants and pedestrians we wound our way towards an amazing piece of architecture. But first, we had to check in to our hotel. You know that scene in "Coming to America" when Eddie Murphy and Arsenio Hall are checking into their hotel and the manager says to them, "You are going to love this place, it's a real shit hole"? Well, that was this hotel. The funny part is, had Andy and I just arrived in India we would have taken one look at the room with white walls and fluorescent lighting, no shower curtain just a shower head above the toilet and the eery dripping sound and said "uh uh, nope, we are NOT staying here!" we would have spun around and left. But because we have lived here five months we took one look at the clean floors and the mold-free walls and said "this place is great!" we hoped Chuck would view the place as an adventure. We all agreed to hold off on showering until the next hotel and took in the Taj from every roof top we could that night. In the morning we bought our tickets (we got to pay Indian citizen prices by showing our work visas!) and walked through the gates. Even though I have seen the Taj in hundreds of pictures, it still took my breath away. Oliver declared it "pretty!" and so did we. Guides made their groups pose and pretend to pinch the top. Lots of families were also told to jump. "1,2,3, jump!" guides exclaimed. We agreed to no jumps, no pinches. We just walked and gazed upwards. Then we got the hell out of Agra, the town itself, "a real shithole."

We found our driver and he took us to Bharatpur, home of India's largest bird sanctuary. Andy and Chuck are birding there now, Oliver and I will join up post nap. What I thought would be a nice day of exercise, me and Oliver trolling around, is not going to happen. There were tigers spotted so we will drive up to the visitors center, get rickshawed around from there. So I am hanging out in our hotel, nicer than the one in Agra but no hot water and no working toilet, still fantastic by India standards.

Tomorrow we drive to Jaipur and work our way closer to the desert. I am excited; keeping my expectations low and my fingers crossed for hot water.

Searching for Chevy Chase

Here we go, we leave tomorrow at ten in the morning for our own Griswold family vacation! No doubt hilarity and frustration (we are in India!) will ensue. We fly from DehraDun to Delhi, where we celebrate Oliver's first birthday (still can't get my head around that!)! Andy's Dad, Chuck, meets us in Delhi and after an Indian Christmas our trip goes a little like this:
Delhi- Agra-Bharatpur-Jaipur-Udaipur-Jaisalmer-Jaipur-Delhi (say goodbye to Chuck)-Singapore-Phuket-Ko Landa-Phuket-Singapore-Delhi-DehraDun-REALITY.
Planes, trains and automobiles will get us where we need to go and friends are meeting us along the way. It's quite the adventure, made more Griswold by our one year old who is about to take his first step and cut his first tooth.
We are packed, excited and ready to get off the mountain!
Xo

Rhesus' are jerks

I had really thought there would be nothing more for me to say on the Rhesus subject.  I thought I had made an agreement with them based on mutual respect for each other and the safety for our respective children.  I was so wrong.

Today, Andy, Oliver, and I made our way up to the top of our mountain for the purpose of both an afternoon walk and to get some groceries from the local store.  As we walked we encountered a troop of Rhesus, dozens of them, lining the trees and our path.  Andy picked up a rock, tossed it, and they scattered.  We continued on our way, took in the view, and once on top, bought snacks for our upcoming vacation.

We had agreed before leaving home that Andy would continue on and take the path that figure-eights around the mountain top and look for birds.  Oliver and I would head down the way we came to be home in time for his nap.  We split the groceries, Andy carrying what he could in his pockets, and me carrying the reusable (read: not see-through plastic!) bag.

Down we went, Me and Oliver, singing Edelweiss and looking out across the Himalayan range.  Until we got to the field by our house our walk had been totally monkey free. *Mom, this is where you stop reading. Seriously. Stop.*  There were about five Rhesus on the far edge of the field and two Langurs (the GOOD monkeys) close to where Oliver and I were going to walk onto the field.  I thought about it and since I only saw a handful of Rhesus, and I (for whatever reason) thought that the Langurs would keep them at a distance, I decided we would take the walk across the field to go down the steps and go home.  Bad decision. *Mom, you had better not be reading! I told you to stop!*  I had a rock in my hand "just in case" and I tossed it and caught it saying "hey guys, just stay to that side, ok?" Tossing, tossing, walking, walking.  I heard a loud "OOH OOH OOH!" to my right and saw a large male yelling at me.  Still calm I said to him (Why do I talk to the monkeys?  Who knows?!), "It's cool, we'll be out of your way..." and before I could finish the large male ran right in front of me and was now yelling and swatting at me.  Shit.  I spun around, thinking I could take the longer trail down the other side of the field,  and saw several monkeys were standing on their HIND LEGS behind me, swatting at me and yelling "OOH OOH OOOH!!!!!"  Shit, shit, shit!  Why did I say I would take the bag?  Why had I listened when everyone said they wouldn't bother me "as long as I was carrying the baby?"  Shit!  All it took was a split-second to assess the seven large swatting, yelling monkeys surrounding me and to see the ENTIRE troop descending from the trees (thinking they had found lunch).  I wrapped my arms around Oliver and screamed a scream I have never heard come from anyone's mouth, let alone my own.  I was panicked, and in my panic, I kicked my way out of the circle of monkeys.  Waving my arms and kicking and screaming I ran towards the stairs.  They followed.  I got my hand on the pepper spray in my bag, fully prepared to blind some monkeys.  I sprinted down the stairs, screaming the entire time (Oliver was crying by this point too, surely he must have thought I was losing my mind).  At the bottom I was able to look up and see my tormentors swinging from the branches, still at the top of the stairs "OOH OOH OOH!"...sad that their lunch ran away with the screaming woman. Jerks.

I started to sob.  Shaking and sweating and tears falling down on Oliver, I made it home with the pepper spray now indented into my palm.  I locked the door once inside and held Oliver tight and promised him I would never, EVER, let his Dad go birding while we walked with groceries ever again. Never, ever, ever.  Jerks.  Mom, I know you are still reading.  We are OK.  Truly, not a scratch on us.  I will be more careful next time...I promise.

Bad Blogger

Sorry...it's been a while.  Truth is (and I know...it's the oldest excuse there is) I got busy.  Really, truly, busy.  I started a little project for myself; a little made-to-order bakery out of my kitchen to see if I am really ready for something along the lines of my own gluten-free bakery someday (a long-time day dream of mine).  The response has been overwhelming and wonderful.  People are very excited, ordering everything from personal treats to gifts to the snack for tea time.  Word has spread to the dorms as well and I have dorm parents and students ordering as well.  What began as a "well, if I get one order a week then it will keep me occupied and happy..." has turned into "I hope my little oven can handle all this!"  And I am loving every minute.  I was called about 15 hours before the school's Christmas Mela (a big craft fair type sale) to see if I wanted a table.  I would be raising money for a home for people with Autism in the area so I had to donate 10% of my profits.  I said yes, of course, and began to bake like crazy.  Staying up until 1:00 a.m. the night before and baking the entire next day.  Oliver was so supportive, napping a nice long nap and being patient while I took my sweet time taking him out of his high chair.
I made 20 dozen cookies and brownies and I sold out in 15 minutes!  I couldn't believe it.  I had brought extra clothes for Oliver for when it gets cold as the sun goes down.  But then there we were, packing up our table as people were still setting up theirs.  It was a great feeling. People seem genuinely excited.  For Westerners, there really are no "sweets" here that we typically eat back home.  There is one bakery in town, that I know of, and they specialize in birthday cakes.  I have had several friends get their cakes from there and then complain because the cake is "glazed" instead of "frosted".  It's just different here.  My treats are familiar, tested recipes (I had to adapt all my recipes to high altitude!) that people are missing from home.  The orders have been pouring in.  I am just trying to get them all filled while still making time to clean (I may be considering hiring a new maid), play with Oliver and eek in a minute for myself and also for Andy.  So far, I am hanging in. I hope I can keep this momentum going once we return from vacation in February.  I am really enjoying myself.

We also had Oliver's first birthday party.  What we thought would be an intimate gathering of our close friends and their kids quickly snowballed into 40+ people.  Andy made falafel, I made hummus and two kinds of birthday cakes: cornbread and banana for Oliver (who is sweet enough and doesn't need super concentrated sugar just yet) and gluten-free chocolate cake with my mom's fudge frosting recipe (no glazes here!).  Simple and easy, I hope everyone had a great time.  I sure did. Though it felt a bit like my wedding reception; a bit hazy, way too fast and I didn't get a chance to talk to everybody.  Oh well.  Oliver had a bit of a social "hangover" the next day but I think he had a good time seeing all his pals in one place.  My parents were able to Skype in at 5:00 a.m. their time and sing along with us. Great, great day.

So, I have been a bit swamped on the home front and Andy has been trying to wrap up a semester with grades, performances (Several of them!  It didn't seem fair) and seeing his kids off to their home towns and countries.  There have been going away parties for friends who are leaving and holiday parties...typical December craziness.  So, I will try to do better and stay on at least a weekly plan for posting.  The days just slipped away from me.  Oliver will be one year old in twelve days.  The days are just slipping by too fast.