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.

Thankful

I am humbled and amazed by all there is to be thankful for in my life.  My little boy, whom neither my doctors nor I was ever confident that my body would allow me to have; my husband who supports and puts up with me; a family and circle of friends that were so supportive of us going on this adventure; our new friends that we have bonded fast and deeply with; my brand-new tiny "business" that appears to have great support and a lot of excitement around it; the Himalayas that we get to gaze upon daily.  How did I ever become so fortunate?  I am truly, deeply, thankful.

Now...onto the FOOD!
India is lacking many foods that we have in the states (just as in the states you are lacking many of the foods found here), this week the focus was on the lack of turkeys. I read with a growling stomach your emails detailing your Thanksgiving menus.  I salivated, my mouth anticipating all the delicious flavors you would enjoy.  I would scour our cabinets looking for something to curb the cravings for sweet potato souffle, roasted turkey, brandied cranberries and my mom's desserts.  Potato chips, dark chocolate and pears did not seem to help (though I certainly tried!). You can find sweet potatoes here (they taste the same but are white inside) and white potatoes as well.  Cranberries?  Nope.  Green beans? Yes.  Stuffing?  Make it yourself (which, is better anyways). You can order a turkey from Delhi for a small fortune if you must.  The lovely Inn at the top of our mountain was serving "American Thanksgiving" for quite a large sum.  Since Andy doesn't eat turkey and I don't eat pumpkin pie (well, I had a couple bites this year!) or stuffing we didn't feel like paying tons of money for something called "American Peas and Corn".  Luckily, we didn't have to.  Our friend, Noel, hosted a potluck.  She gathered all the Americans under 40 and one French woman at her house.  Everyone brought a couple of dishes to share.  
They ranged from traditional: green bean casserole, homemade rolls (which looked delicious, but if I am risking a gluten response it is going to be for pie, not rolls) and pumpkin pie.  To the not-so-traditional: pumpkin momos (dumplings), curried chicken and hazelnut cake.  We feasted.  It all felt so wonderfully thrown together and comforting.  We had each other, and we were thankful.  Except for Oliver taking a nose-dive onto the coir matting, made of cocount...very very rough, the evening was a complete delight.

So much so that we are having Thanksgiving part deux tonight!  We all have traditionally spent the weekend surrounded by family and enjoying leftovers so we thought, have it twice!  This time it's at Fabi's house.  The menu will change a bit but the intention is still the same: we have each other, we are so thankful.  When you are away from those you love the most it is so helpful to be around all the new people you have come to love (and aren't I lucky to have found them?).  It isn't freezing cold outside, I didn't get to eat all my "favorites" and I really miss  seeing my family.  So it certainly doesn't feel like any Thanksgiving I have had before, but it does feel like Thanksgiving.  And I am so thankful.

Water! Water!

My friend had one of her students ask her: "Is it true that in America you can drink the water out of any sink? The bathroom too?" She thought for a moment and told the class that yes, you can drink the water out of any sink in the house and you "you can even drink out of the hose!" Amazed, the students started to ask more questions.  "How?"  "Why is the water safe?"  She even told them that there is this nutrient called Fluoride "and it is put in our water just because it is good for you and your teeth."  Mouths dropped to the floor.  When she told me this it made me think just how utopic America sounds and how dystopic India must sound to Americans, especially when it comes to water.

We have had two friends get quite ill from drinking the "bad" water.  They both had Giardia that affected them for many weeks on and off.  In each staff home there is a water purifier that you turn on and get your water from.  If you do not have a water purifier, you get your water from one of the pumps in town and boil it.

Kids collecting water in town

With all the trash, oil, grease, dumped onto the hillside and all the wild animals and people who use the hillside as their bathroom you can imagine what this does to the watershed.  We are lucky to be near the top of the rivers and higher up on the watershed.  Living in the mountains does provide you this small luxury.  I have heard horror stories (that would keep you up at night) about the rivers in south India and how the water looks coming out of the tap.  Since you may be eating while reading this, I will spare you the gruesome details.

We are hyper cautious about Oliver and the water.  We boil a pot of purified water for his bath and then add cool pitchers of purified water until the temperature is right. He splashes, plays with his toys and often tries to drink the water.  We can't take the chance he might ingest some non-purified water. We don't wipe is face or hands with anything but purified water either; everything still goes right into his mouth so no "bad" water on his hands.   We can wash dishes with non-purified water but then we rinse everything with the purified.  We always check to make sure our dishes are dry when we eat at a restaurant.

If you are eating at an unfamiliar restaurant (typically, we get recommendations from friends but this is not always possible if you are eating in a different town), you order a bottle of water because you don't want to risk that they might not serve purified.  We have even asked waiters to take our bottle and brew our tea with it because if they don't get the "bad" water to the actual boiling point it will make you sick.

I have a hunch that Oliver and I got so sick on our fifth day here because we got a little "bad" water into our systems somehow.  I was still brain dead and feeling quite upside down and was probably, unknowingly, not being as careful as I should have been.

When I get back to the states the first thing I am going to do is serve myself a nice tall glass of fluoride-enhanced water...straight from the hose.  And drink it with confidence.

p.s. My Dad prescribed Oliver fluoride drops so he gets some in his sippy cup everyday.

Small Business Plan

Have you ever had a little voice from deep inside whisper to you "THIS is what you should be doing?"
I've had a little voice for about seven years now that tells me I should open up a Gluten-Free bakery.
This voice has come to me when I was switching schools, switching careers, afternoons spent playing with Oliver while at the same time wondering how I can help financially contribute to my family.  People over the years have complimented my baking (my almond butter chocolate chip cookies are what is requested when I ask what I can bring to parties) and when they discover that everything is gluten-free they act shocked.  "No kidding!  I would never have known!" I am not sure what they expect gluten-free foods to taste like, but clearly they don't expect them to be "good."

I have often lamented my lack of options at coffee shops and cafes.  Just wanting a snack when we are out for a walk can be quite an ordeal.  I would love to have a place where families can bring their kids and know that the kitchen is committed to keeping their kids safe and that everyone can have something to eat.  I figure, why stop at just gluten?  Why not have a place that is free of the most common food triggers: gluten, dairy, nuts, soy, shellfish (easy enough).  Eggs is going to be a tough one to avoid, but I can make it happen!  When I daydream about my bakery I picture a black and white tile or old hardwood floors with pale yellow walls and old diner lights.  My bakery is located on Monroe St. in Madison.  It's central to all sides of town, good parking and good foot traffic. I not only sell in my store and handle large orders but I also supply Whole Foods Market with some nice, local options for baked goodies. A girl can dream...

Today I baked some Snickerdoodles (cinnamon-sugar cookies) for our neighbors who lend us their vacuum cleaner.  She couldn't believe I had made them with Chickpea flour and was very excited about their taste/texture.  Unbeknownst to me, she shared them with several students an staff members.   I had two students and one teacher come up to me at lunch asking if they could buy more from me.  If that wasn't a light bulb moment, I am going to need to be knocked out my a huge sack of gluten-free flour to get the message!  I get it, little voice!  I hear you! So now, I am going to go price out a couple of recipes and see if I can't drum up some interest in selling some baked goods.  It will be simple enough to do here; a man sells loaves of bread door to door and is hugely popular.  I figure a couple of emails, one day of free samples and I should be able to get a nice little side business going running out of the school's quad.  We will see how it goes and perhaps I can continue this venture when we return to the states. Seeing as how I know nothing about owning a small business, if I want to expand and actually have a brick and mortar location, I am going to have to take some classes and become far more knowledgable about everything involved.

I realize this post has nothing to do about India.  I am simply writing this to get some good energy going.  But having this idea "out there" finally (as in, not just Andy) means I can start to network and get some support.  I can't stop now either, knowing I am going to be "checked" up on.  Wish me luck! xo

No appointment necessary

One month before we left for India I was diagnosed with Hyperthyroidism. Three weeks before we left I received confirmation that it is Grave's disease (I just hate that name), the autoimmune thyroid condition.  I had three weeks to pack up our apartment, our baby, my husband and see him off to India before I moved to Wisconsin with Oliver to stay with my parents until it was our turn to go.  Three weeks. Western medicine did not work.  I took a Beta Blocker for one week and felt even worse.  I was losing weight too fast, twelve pounds less than when I first got pregnant, and I couldn't stand for more than five minutes without getting dizzy.  My hair was falling out, my hands wouldn't stop shaking and on top of everything, I couldn't sleep.  That is fantastic when you have a six month old.  I was ragged.  Other pills suggested to me meant I could not nurse Oliver anymore; not an option.  I called my beloved acupuncturist, Liz, who has helped me with circulation issues, Ulcerative Colitis, headaches, fertility all with (obviously!) great success.  She treated me three times for the Graves.  Three!  I was given herbs to take and diligently swallowed my bitter medicine.  Yuck.  I was pissed, frankly.  What fantastic timing my body has!  Another Autoimmune disease?  Just put it on my list.  I went to treatments, took the herbs, silently cursed my body for turning on me and continued to pack.  No time to think, just time to DO. Slowly I noticed my hands stop shaking, my hair staying on my head where it belonged.  I was feeling ok.  Still tired, sleepless and underweight, but I could function. Liz sent me to India with three months of herbs so that I could get acclimated here and have time to find a new course of treatment.

So that's what I did today. And it was perhaps my most bizarre medical experience to date.

Everyone told me that for doctor recommendations I should talk to the head of school.  She has been here for twenty-five years and is very health-conscious, she would be able to help me.  I inquired about Ayurvedic medicine or an acupuncturist, but when she mentioned her success with her homeopathic doctor I decided that would be the option for me.  I had great success with a homeopath when I was in high school and college.  No treatment was more successful at calming my colitis.  I asked her where he was located and she drew me a map, "he's hard to find."  I asked for his number to make an appointment, "no appointment necessary, just show up!  If it looks busy, stick your head in the window and ask when you should come back."  Okaaaay.

Andy and Oliver escorted me to the doctor and Andy promised me a tasty dinner out for all my trouble.  Deal! When we turned a corner down a road I had never been down before I was so thankful for the map.  There was the store front...and there was the line out the door to see him.  I immediately became overwhelmed and did not want to stay.  Andy asked me why and all I could think of was "I'm scared."  This guy might not know any English, what if there is a complete lack of understanding and I get pills to treat something else?  People cut in front of me in line and I got more overwhelmed...I wanted to be anywhere but in that line with the coughing people.  But then, I got brave.  I feel really crappy and really tired and really upset about having to get treatment in this manner!  So I maneuvered my way in front of the last person to cut in front of me and worked my way into the smallest possible "treatment" office you could imagine.  Room for four people, standing...doctor included.  I watched him ask a young boy to stick out his tongue, then gave his mother some white pills and off they went sixty seconds later!  A husband and wife were next.  The doctor felt her neck and more white pills and then out the door!  My turn.  He actually pulled the curtain for me and told me to sit on a stool.  I explained my situation and he was shocked that I didn't bring my medical forms with me (oops!).  Why in my frantic mind did I forget those?  Did I subconsciously think they couldn't be translated?  This man spoke fantastic English and three minutes later I had two bottles of white pills, "From Germany!" labeled "Thyroid". I was told how to take them and that I should come back. I paid my 235 rupees (Just over four dollars!) and got shuffled out the door, a little dumbfounded over what just went down but also confident that this man will be able to help me even after the quickest intake and assessment ever.  The line wound down the street once I got out. I was thankful to be free of that small space.

I took my first doses after Oliver went to bed.  It feels like this crazy way of getting help for this crazy disease may just actually work. I will keep you posted.