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Published: December 12th 2005
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Our Hotel
Looking across to my room on the 6th floor and Ruth's room on the 4th floor. We started the day with a huge buffet breakfast at the hotel. Among the many choices I found plenty to fill up on. I can't tell you the names of anything, nor will I take the time to describe it right now, but I can say it was enjoyable.
Check out this link to our hotel, it's beautiful!
The Residency Towers After breakfast our driver picked us up and Ruth and I had our first daylight view of the streets of Chennai. The one thing that surprised me most was that I was not nervous or anxious in any way as we drove through the rather chaotic streets. Anyone who knows me well will also be surprised to hear this. In fact, I have such bad traffic phobias that I brought along some (prescription) "calm-me-down-drugs" just for the occasion. I figured I'd be taking them regularly but perhaps not. I wasn't freaked out in the least...not once! (I really sense that some of you may not be believing me (Ruth could hardly believe it and she was sitting right next to me.) Rest assured it's true, I was as calm as a cucumber. (haha why do they say that cucumbers are
Our Hotel
Looking down from my 6th floor room. calm?)
I analyzed this phenomena and decided that the reason (I wasn't freaked out) is that even though there is mass chaos, it is all in slow motion. Even though there are all sorts of vehicles, animals, and pedestrians weaving in and out and even going the wrong direction, the slowness of it makes it seem that if anything were about to happen, there would be plenty of time to avoid it. Also, it seems like everyone sort of looks out for each other, that there is extreme awareness of everyone and everything else on the road.
There is a lot of honking, but it's not like American honking, which is usually precipitated by impatience, anger or frustration. The honking here is to warn others that you are next to them or going to pass by them. It's POLITE honking. And it's constant. Quite a new concept, huh? I like the Indian attitude.
Our riding around town adventure included old friends of Praveens, “Pretty” (my nickname for her because that is what her Indian name sounds like) and Anond (which I probably spelled wrong.) We all went to visit Praveen’s uncle and aunt where I got to
oh, GROSS!
Sometime during the day I looked down at my feet and was appalled to see that my ankles were swollen up like a pregnant woman’s. And NO I am definitely not pregnant. Ruth thought it was because of all the tomato juice I drank on the plane but I reject that. I know I could eat a whole bag of potato chips and even that much salt doesn’t make my ankles swell. I think I read something on the internet about the long plane trip possibly causing swelling, but I can’t remember why, perhaps the pressure or something. Anyhow, I’m back in my room with my feet up for now. try out my newly learned greeting, "Wannacum" (without the question mark). They were openly pleased, just as Praveen said they would be to hear me trying to speak their language. After enjoying some chi tea and sweets with them, we went out to lunch.
At lunch I had my first go at eating with my hands, and I have to say I’m pretty good at it. It seems to satisfy some unfulfilled childhood need to get personal with my food. I thought back to the times wnen I, as a mom, taught our kids, as babies, to use a spoon against their natural inclination to just pick their food up with their hands. I guess I have to admit I felt sort of “naughty” eating with my hands and I liked the feeling!
Again I liked most of the food, although I’m not too fond of plain yogurt, a common side dish or condiment here. I have to admit as well that I picked a small kidney out of my rice. (I'm not comfortable eating organs.)
The awkward part of eating with my hands was trying to not lick my fingers, which is not really done. I asked how I was supposed to pick up my drinking glass or to serve more from the serving bowl if my fingers were covered with food. The answer is simple, I was to use my left hand for those things and only my right for actual eating.
At the restaurant, I also had my first experience with a public toilet which offered no TP. I wasn’t too worried (as I had my handy little purse packet of baby wipes with me) but I still insisted that Ruth accompany me. It’s a good thing she did, as I would have had a hard time opening the little individual packet while holding my long skirt up from dragging on the (wet) floor. But then a new dilemma presented itself…. What to do with the USED baby wipe. There was no trash can. As I tuck it back into it’s foil packet and back into my purse, I make a mental note to add a zip lock baggie to my purse hygiene kit.
It was a good day. Overall, I am adjusting well, don’t you think?
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