The Art of the 3 Minute Shower

My first few weeks in India did not go well for one simple reason. The HOT showers were not long enough!

While living in our beautiful home has it perks there is one down side. Image trying to shave your legs when  you only have 3 minutes of hot to luke warm water. How does one accomplish everything that needs to occur in the shower when you only have 3 minutes. Really people....that's not enough time for a woman. Scrubbing, shampooing, shaving. The 3 major S's of the shower require more than a meer few minutes of hot water.

I was frustrated and tried everything to extend the life of the shower. I tried wetting my hair and turning off the water to conserve the precious resource. That just left me shivering in a cold bath room while gritting my teeth and cursing the shower gods. I tried using the extremly large bath tub but alas it didn't fill up with much hot water so shaving became painfully bumpy as my goose bumps began to crop up. I even tried shaving one body part a day. Me: Right leg today. Left leg tomorrow. Underarms next day. Ok, so it sounds funny but I began hiding my body under long sleeves and long pants. Finally one day, Lance just asks...."Ok, what's up with all the long clothes? Are you cold?" I simply explain, "No! I don't have enough hot water for my normal routine." He laughs and walks me into the bathroom and turns on the faucet. "Turn the dial half way to hot. Then only open up the flow like one-third of the way. It makes the hot water last longer." My eyes light up! I say, "THANK GOD! I was worried I was going to become one of those hairy European women who can braid their under arm hair!"

Later on I would get mad that my husband had not told me about the proper hot water saving procedures. I think he had been secretly waiting to see if I would let myself go! Perhaps there are hairy women all over India who just accept this natural part of life hairy legs and all. Or perhaps they just know the secret to conserving the hot water.

Now I enjoy my 20 minute bath. I have time to scrub everything. I can properly shampoo my hair. I can shave my legs...really...all in the same bath. I have time to work on feeling like my normal self again. Yeah! And just when I was working so hard to make the 3 minute shower work for me. I will not miss you cold water. I will not miss you hairy legs.

Pictures of Lodi Garden, Republic Day

Down the Drain...

Imagine, if you will, your toilet is clogged up with the usual toilet debris. You need to unclog it so you go to your local Walmart or hardware type store and purchase a plunger to remove the obstruction. A few quick pumps and presto everything heads "down the drain."

That is the US way.

So we had a clogged drain in the toilet. I go to my local Walmart store (known here as an Easy Day) and we don't sell plungers. I ask the store people and they are confused. Apparently in India they don't call it a plunger. So, I go to two other stores and nothing. I am getting frustrated. I tell Lance to ask his fellow expats at work where to find a plunger. They say "have your driver find one!" Now that is a new idea. Having someone else run errands for you. I am in LOVE with the idea already. I start thinking of all the time I will save. Anyways, I am getting ahead of myself. So I ask our driver, Sushil, to assist me in finding a plunger for the toilet. He doesn't understand so I provide a quick demonstration of what the problem is and and the needed implement. Needless to say the demonstration included me making the "stinky nose" face and pointing at the toilet and a making a strange sort of "up and down" pumping motion that in the US would have REALLY gotten me into trouble in the sexual harrassment department. He simply smiles kindly and says "Yes."  The next day he takes me to the several local (Indian only) markets and tells me "Mam, please stay in the car" while he heads out to search for the needed implement. Apparently buying plungers in India is dangerous work indeed! (That was me using humor to make light of a real danager in being thought of as an wealthy, English woman in the local market who is safe to pickpocket.) So I watch while my driver makes the same funny, yet highly descriptive "up and down" motion while speaking in Hindi. Nothing. We head to two more locations only to come up empty handed.

The next day at 8 am my security guard rings the front door bell. I answer and he has two plungers in a plastic bag with a price tag on each for 50 rupees or $1 (for all you mathematicians that's $2 total). I am thrilled and hug the bag while standing in my pjs on the front porch. He is smiling ear to ear, happy to see me happy. I realize I look ridiculous and that my friends in the US would understand my excitement and my need to hug things! I thank him and pay him his 100 rupees.

The story doesn't end there because everything didn't go "down the drain." It came out the toilet the other way. UGH! So I tell Lance, "Call someone. Do something!!! I am freaking out here!!!"

The next day a plumber shows up to fix the problem. To make the story short he has to take the toilet off the fixture to remove the obstruction. He calls me in after an hours worth of work to show me a pile of toilet paper (and other stuff which shall not be mentioned here). I am mortified. I appologize. He stares at the paper with confusion on this face. We are both silent for a moment...and then he points at the hose to the geyser. You see they don't use toilet paper in India. They use a water sprayer. Paper is very expensive here (8 tiny rolls will cost you $14).

So, as the saying goes "When in ROME...."
never mind....I can't bring myself to use "the hose."

McDonalds and the Bouncing Child

I headed to McDonalds yesterday becuase I had a "hankerin" for some good old fashioned french fries. I am happy to report that my entire lunch cost me $2.40 for a McChicken, medium fry, and a diet coke (in a can). I was thrilled. I thought to myself I could make this a daily trip...maybe not...my butt might get very big indeed if I did that.

Anyways, so I am enjoying my meal, watching the other patrons, and writing in my journal when the cutest kid I have ever seen in my life comes in wearing an adorable home knit hat, complete with animal ears. He is with his father and they head up to the counter. I see them a few moments later as they take a seat a few tables down from me, and wouldn't you know his dad had bought him a happy meal. The handle had the two perfect McDonalds arches, and don't worry folks, creepy Ronald McDonald the clown is alive and well in India and on prominent display. (Never did like that guy. )

So the kid, who is about three years old, begins to eat his "chicken" something sandwich and a starts to bounce. You know... that happy bounce kids do when they are really, REALLY excited about what they are eating. I smiled and realized that this is one of those non-verbal cues that crosses all cultures that means I am happy and content with my life today. I make a decision right then and there to bounce a few times today in honor of the tradition.

As I leave McDonalds later I run into my friend Ronald in the lobby. He has his red curly hair and stark white face, and the biggest grin. Just then a mother and daughter go up to Ronald (the statue) and the little girl hugs him. I then realize that my hatered of the scary clown needs to be reconsidered. Maybe I like the guy after all....hmmmm.

Typical Day in India--a personal perspective

Today is Thursday and I started my morning by drinking 2 cups of hot Jasmine tea and eating a fresh banana for breakfast. Delicious!!! I feel healthier already.

The house cleaner showed up at 9:30 (typical start time for Indian jobs appartently). Everyone at work thinks Lance is an exceptionally freaky person for being at the office by 7:30 am which is a full 2 hours ahead of anyone else. Anyways, so the cleaner comes in and I ask (rather show him) that today we need to vacuum the rugs and dust. He doesn't speak much English but looks at me like I am from the moon, which probably isn't too far from the truth. He slowly takes up the broom and tries to sweep the rug. I look on dumbfounded. My American mannerisms have a direct effect. He stops and we share a few moments staring at each other and I try to figure out how to bridge the divide without a common language. I show him the vacuum cleaner. He takes two steps back from it like it is a Cobra about to strike. I look at its funny head and realize that to someone who hasn't used one before it must be a strange site indead. So I plug the hose into the central vacuum and the snake comes alive. He smiles ear to ear and keeps saying "Thak u mam." He then proceeds to use it on everything for the next 2 hours of cleaning...baseboards, stairs, curtains, marble floors, rugs. He loved it!!! I am not sure who he cleaned for before the Twittys arrived but appartently they didn't use a vacuum cleaner.

Now it is time for my afternoon yoga upstairs so as the saying goes...
"Get to your mat. Swim from your shore." Will you swim today or camp out on your shore?