Domenic has been home for a day and a half and boy did I miss him. He didn’t arrive until the middle of the night but we stayed wide awake just waiting and waiting and waiting until finally we heard the rattling of the downstairs gate. OMG….they are here!!! Down the stairs we zoomed to greet Dorcy and Domenic who were on the other side of the fence still trying to shake the gate open. Might I remind you that we have a paid security guard on duty, sleeping so soundly, that the ruckus caused from trying to pry open the iron gates wasn’t even enough to shake him out of dreamland and back into reality. Don’t we feel super-safe.
The initial embrace was just like in the movies, long, strong, and dramatic. Domenic and Seth rode the elevator, packed to the weight limit with guilty pleasures from America, while Dorcy and I hiked on foot, one step at a time to the 4th floor. It took all of 60 seconds before the contents of the bags exploded in every direction, blanketing the freshly cleaned floors. We were all but on our hands and knees rummaging through bags and clothes in search of the lifelines that were to sustain us till June when we returned home for a visit; a desperate picture at best. We looked as if we had been stranded on a desert island for 6 months waiting for the cargo ship to port. With enough persistence we were able to locate our treasures; See’s dark chocolate—is there anything better?, Starbucks Christmas blend coffee—good coffee is harder to find than you’d expect, refined white flour—Seth is in dire need of a carrot cake, brown sugar—the only way to enjoy the taste of oatmeal, feather mattress pad—it’s a toss-up between the marble floor and the mattress for comfort, Timewise lotion from Mary Kay (how else do you think Seth retains his beauty)?, Captain Morgan’s Spiced Rum—to help keep our local Indian connection motivated, and much, much more.
It’s Saturday night and all is quiet on the home front; really quiet, I’m the only one awake. Jetlag has finally caught up with Domenic and he is sleeping peacefully in our bed where Seth is also sleeping, but not so peacefully. He’s been down for the count since early this morning with horrible intestinal cramps. Identifying the source of the pain can be most simply summed up in one word—INDIA. No matter how careful you are, it takes time to adapt to this country. With the exception of Domenic (knock on wood) we’ve all had our bouts. I was just too sick to blog about my own illnesses, vomiting, and trips to the doctor and hospital (although the hospital visit was definitely blogworthy.) I burned through my sick days so rapidly that at one point I thought I might have to start paying the school to work here. After several months I’m beginning to get acclimated.
Dorcy and I ordered pizza for dinner from a little Italian place down the street and around the corner. The pizza there is actually very good. The crust is thin, NY style, and fired in a brick oven. We ordered two vegetarian pizzas; much safer that way. The delivery guy showed up, pizzas in hand, and a bill for half the price than the last time we placed the same order. Nothing is standard or consistent around this place. We put Domenic’s slices aside and dragged Seth out of bed to eat before taking some medicine. One of the pizzas had a cockroach camouflaged in the toppings—super gross. Seth was given the honors of disposing the meat topping from our vegetarian pizza. I then served Seth a piece of Siciliana pizza, “Here, this one is less cockroachy and probably easier on your digestive system.” Thanks.
I’ve been checking on the boys. Domenic is still out like a light and looking awfully comfortable. Just how chameleons change colors to blend in with their surroundings, Domenic changes sizes to accommodate his space. Our bed is large and he is taking up all but a small sliver on the edge of the bed where Seth is hanging on. The last time I checked, the only request from Seth, “Unwrangle him please, I can’t breathe.”
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Friday, January 7, 2011
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Unexpected Departures, Food Poisoning, Infections, Vacationing—another month in India!
Unexpected Departure and Food Poisoning
It is evident by the heading that the month of December was packed with activity, much of which was unwanted and unforeseen. The kick-off to the month was arranging for Domenic to fly back to Washington State, without me, on a moment’s notice and 14 days earlier than planned, adding up to a grand total of 34 days apart. GULP! The original plan had Domenic departing to the States without me and traveling with Dorcy, but for only 20 days which was terrifying enough for me. The phone call that precipitated this change in events came in Friday morning, December 3, from Dorcy’s husband, Paul. He was calling to notify Dorcy that her mother was very ill and not getting better, making it too risky to wait an additional 2 weeks before flying home. Since Domenic’s “ride” to the States was with Dorcy, we had no other choice than to change his tickets to the next available flight, later that night. GULP! I took the afternoon off work to gather travel documents and to pack. I felt awful inside.
I grabbed a huge suitcase, stuffed another empty suitcase inside, placed the Christmas gifts next, and tossed a pile of socks, underwear, and t-shirts on top before zipping the luggage closed. With such short notice, the only warm clothing Domenic had was a light sweatshirt his Auntie purchased a week prior on their trip to Delhi. It’s a good thing my evaluation as a mother isn’t based solely on that pack job or I would fail miserably.
The knock on the door came all too soon. It was the car to take Dorcy and Domenic to the airport. O-boy. Here we go. Down the 4 flights of stairs we went and out into the dark, wet, rainy night. When the time came for the final hug, Domenic burst into tears. “I don’t want to go. I’ve never been away from you this long. I’ve never been on a different continent than you.” One long, strong hug and some reassuring words and Domenic was good to go. I stood on the sidewalk and watched the car fade into the darkness. Then it was my turn. I sobbed buckets of tears all the way upstairs and into our bedroom where Seth was curled up in the fetal position, shaking with a high fever and agonizing in pain. He had a horrible case of food poisoning that was getting progressively worse throughout the day. The culprit? Bad milk. The milk here is pasteurized but it still needs to be boiled before drinking it. Even then, the shelf time is quite limited. I don’t drink milk in India.
As it turns out, saying good-bye was the hardest part. Once I was able to speak to Domenic, State-side, and hear his lovely voice, I felt a huge sense of relief. Dorcy reported that Domenic’s good-bye tears dried up by the time the car reached the top of our road. Music to my ears. The flight was long and they had to transfer planes in Brussels where the weather was frigid. Passengers were bundled up in wool clothing with steam coming from their mouths. Dorcy informed me that most people were looking at her, traveling with an underdressed child, as though she was the most negligent mother in the world, to which I responded, “Better you than me.” I’m a super friend. The next stop was JFK for a 6-hour layover. My sister met them at the airport with sushi (per Dom’s request), one of Domenic’s buddies and warm clothes in hand.
It has been a month since Domenic left and he will be home soon. He’s a brave little soul and did better than could be expected. Dorcy made it back in time to be with her mother and make arrangements for the future.
Infections
Seth recovered from his wicked case of food poisoning late afternoon the next day, vowing to never drink milk in India. Smart choice. We attended the school Christmas party a week later which would be unrecognizable if compared to the staff Christmas parties back at home. The venue was a 5-star restaurant with a full dinner and dessert buffet, open bar, music, and lots of dancing, resembling a wedding reception more than anything. We dressed in our formal/elegant attire and headed out for an enjoyable evening.
The following day, Saturday, Seth’s left eye started to bother him. It looked a bit red and irritated; the beginning of an eye stye. Sunday came and the redness was more evident and the pain increasing. Monday morning Seth pulled the lower lid down for us to take a peek inside. There was definitely a sore on the inside lid. Still this wasn’t enough to motivate Seth to see a doctor. Monday evening came and in a matter of 20 minutes it looked as if someone had used purple eye liner and drew a thick line under his eye. He departed to the pharmacy for some antibiotic eye drops (remember, no prescriptions needed here) and promising to see a doctor first thing tomorrow! The promise turned out to a necessity. Tuesday morning it looked as if someone had punched him in the eye; black and blue. Now will you go???
While I was at work, Seth navigated himself to the nearest clinic. “I was in and out in ten minutes,” as he says. And? The doctor took one look and knew immediately what it was, an eye stye. He called his nurse in the room to assist with the procedure of draining the cyst. Seth said they carried on a discussion in Tamil for a few minutes before getting down to work, ignorance is bliss they say. However, apparently not all words can be spoken in Tamil, like the words, “eye” and “needle.” Yep, pretty gross. The black and blue was caused from the infection not being able to drain. Strange things happen to people in India. They lowered the needle to the cyst and upon insertion, blood and puss came spurting out. He was handed a cotton ball, sent to pay his bill and given a list of antibiotics to purchase. The office visit, combined with the antibiotics totaled less than $5.00 USD.
Vacationing
As noted before, we did not go back to the States for Christmas. We had a nice long break, 3 weeks, where some time was spent on the Andaman Islands. The Andaman Islands are owned by India and only a 2.5 hour flight from Chennai. The weather report promised a week of rain, thunder, and lightening, how lovely. As luck would have it, the only water we saw falling from the sky was a light mist during our 2.5 hour ferry ride from Port Blair to Havelock Island. The rest of the stay was beautiful. We stayed at a nice little resort on Havelock Island, Symphony Palms. Our days were spent snorkeling, reading, playing cards, eating, drinking, swimming, and exploring the island, but only after Seth turned in his last two homework assignments online. The only Internet access on the island was conveniently located across the street at the Internet café; a straw hut with dial up service. It only took an hour to upload 2 assignments. Bravo for technology!
The following day we went snorkeling. We had strict orders to be ready by 7:00 am for pick-up. Remarkably enough the cab service was on time. We were driven 50 yards to our destination spot (really? Had we know), and proceeded to be shuffled around in disorganized chaos until 9:00 am when we were rushed to the boat. The boat looked like a row boat with a closed bow and a motor attached to the back. Nine of us were shoved into the boat and the gear was loaded only to discover we still needed gas. Typical. Without a care in the world, the can was lifted into the boat, with gas sloshing out of the can, into the boat and all over some poor girl’s feet and legs. This type of christening must happen to all the tourists because not one Indian blinked an eye, offered to wash it off, or even looked slightly apologetic. I was having flashbacks to my earlier days in Mexico. Leaving the shore was more difficult than need be. We were bumping and banging into the anchored boats surrounding us. Seth crawled onto the bow of the boat to give us a massive shove. Even more shocking than the service up to this point was the fact that the fiberglass bowed enough to support Seth’s weight without snapping. Good thing too, because had he fallen through the bow, I’m certain the bottom of the boat would have given out entirely. By 10:00 am we were on our way.
The next day we wanted to go on a Jungle Trek, advertised at our resort on a large wooden sign in front of reception. As it turned out, not a person around knew anything about such a trek. Instead we rented a scooter for $5.00 USD a day and did some of our own exploring. Seth hopped on the back, put me in charge of scooting, and off we went with a teaspoon of gas in the tank. We passed by the gas station about 7 times before stopping at the only grocery store where gas could be purchased from a tin can in the back. Finally we were on our way to Radanagar Beach or Beach #7. Radanagar Beach was voted the number one beach in SE Asia; bold claim but enough to lure us there.
The beach was amazing. We spent a couple of nice days there, lounging around and taking walks. Down the beach and around the corner was a small cove, the scene of an awful tragedy in April. A young woman was eaten by a salt-water crocodile. Of course the tourist guide doesn’t advertise this and we only first heard about it before departure. The only display of caution came from a small sign, “Swimming and snorkeling not recommended here.” I should say not.
The stay at Havelock Island came to an end all too soon and off we went to Port Blair Island. We were greeted at the ferry landing by our driver; a young Indian man with an earring, a shiny black car, a keen sense of style, and flair for good music. We tore off down the street bumping to the tunes of Eminem. Maybe he thought we’d feel more at home listening to the vulgar lyrics chanted in English, and if truth be told, we did. “Stop at the liquor store before the airport,” we dictated knowing there couldn’t possibly be any judgment coming from this fine, young man. Liquor is super cheap on Port Blair and with the New Year approaching, it was a must.
We arrived to the airport on time, liquor securely stowed away in the suitcase. I went through security first and left Seth with the luggage full of booze just in case there was a problem. The shuttle to the plane arrived late. We were hurried along and told to be seated promptly because the runway at Chennai would be closing at 2:30 pm and if we arrived late, we wouldn’t be able to land. What kind of an airport closes the runway mid-day or ever for that matter? After listening to safety instructions in Tamil and then again in English, we were on our way, landing safely and on time.
New Years Eve and More Food Poisoning
The families at our apartment complex organized a New Years Eve party on the rooftop. We woke up New Years Eve day, ready to prep for the evening. While breakfast was cooking, Seth grabbed a yogurt out of the fridge, and polished it off in no time flat. Within 5 minutes Seth looked at me, turned around, and grabbed the empty yogurt cup from the trash to read the expiration date; December 11. Seriously, Seth? Just like the milk, yogurt is pasteurized here but the shelf time is short. And just like the milk, I don’t eat yogurt in India either. An hour later, noon by now, Seth was throwing up and going to the bathroom for the next 9 hours straight. The only time he got up, other than to use the bathroom, was to make a guest appearance on the rooftop, water cup in hand, a true indication of how sick he really was. The evening didn’t go as planned, but we still rung in the new year together which is all that really matters. By January 1, the only effect of the food poisoning was extreme dehydration. Several tall glasses of lemon water mixed with equal parts sugar and salt and he was good to go. I told Seth, in my most loving and caring of ways, since he is unable to read expiration dates, he is permanently banned from ALL dairy products in India with the exception of cheese and if I caught him trolling around the dairy in the stores there would be a heavy price to pay. Now both Seth and I do not drink milk, or eat yogurt in India.
It is evident by the heading that the month of December was packed with activity, much of which was unwanted and unforeseen. The kick-off to the month was arranging for Domenic to fly back to Washington State, without me, on a moment’s notice and 14 days earlier than planned, adding up to a grand total of 34 days apart. GULP! The original plan had Domenic departing to the States without me and traveling with Dorcy, but for only 20 days which was terrifying enough for me. The phone call that precipitated this change in events came in Friday morning, December 3, from Dorcy’s husband, Paul. He was calling to notify Dorcy that her mother was very ill and not getting better, making it too risky to wait an additional 2 weeks before flying home. Since Domenic’s “ride” to the States was with Dorcy, we had no other choice than to change his tickets to the next available flight, later that night. GULP! I took the afternoon off work to gather travel documents and to pack. I felt awful inside.
I grabbed a huge suitcase, stuffed another empty suitcase inside, placed the Christmas gifts next, and tossed a pile of socks, underwear, and t-shirts on top before zipping the luggage closed. With such short notice, the only warm clothing Domenic had was a light sweatshirt his Auntie purchased a week prior on their trip to Delhi. It’s a good thing my evaluation as a mother isn’t based solely on that pack job or I would fail miserably.
The knock on the door came all too soon. It was the car to take Dorcy and Domenic to the airport. O-boy. Here we go. Down the 4 flights of stairs we went and out into the dark, wet, rainy night. When the time came for the final hug, Domenic burst into tears. “I don’t want to go. I’ve never been away from you this long. I’ve never been on a different continent than you.” One long, strong hug and some reassuring words and Domenic was good to go. I stood on the sidewalk and watched the car fade into the darkness. Then it was my turn. I sobbed buckets of tears all the way upstairs and into our bedroom where Seth was curled up in the fetal position, shaking with a high fever and agonizing in pain. He had a horrible case of food poisoning that was getting progressively worse throughout the day. The culprit? Bad milk. The milk here is pasteurized but it still needs to be boiled before drinking it. Even then, the shelf time is quite limited. I don’t drink milk in India.
As it turns out, saying good-bye was the hardest part. Once I was able to speak to Domenic, State-side, and hear his lovely voice, I felt a huge sense of relief. Dorcy reported that Domenic’s good-bye tears dried up by the time the car reached the top of our road. Music to my ears. The flight was long and they had to transfer planes in Brussels where the weather was frigid. Passengers were bundled up in wool clothing with steam coming from their mouths. Dorcy informed me that most people were looking at her, traveling with an underdressed child, as though she was the most negligent mother in the world, to which I responded, “Better you than me.” I’m a super friend. The next stop was JFK for a 6-hour layover. My sister met them at the airport with sushi (per Dom’s request), one of Domenic’s buddies and warm clothes in hand.
It has been a month since Domenic left and he will be home soon. He’s a brave little soul and did better than could be expected. Dorcy made it back in time to be with her mother and make arrangements for the future.
Infections
Seth recovered from his wicked case of food poisoning late afternoon the next day, vowing to never drink milk in India. Smart choice. We attended the school Christmas party a week later which would be unrecognizable if compared to the staff Christmas parties back at home. The venue was a 5-star restaurant with a full dinner and dessert buffet, open bar, music, and lots of dancing, resembling a wedding reception more than anything. We dressed in our formal/elegant attire and headed out for an enjoyable evening.
The following day, Saturday, Seth’s left eye started to bother him. It looked a bit red and irritated; the beginning of an eye stye. Sunday came and the redness was more evident and the pain increasing. Monday morning Seth pulled the lower lid down for us to take a peek inside. There was definitely a sore on the inside lid. Still this wasn’t enough to motivate Seth to see a doctor. Monday evening came and in a matter of 20 minutes it looked as if someone had used purple eye liner and drew a thick line under his eye. He departed to the pharmacy for some antibiotic eye drops (remember, no prescriptions needed here) and promising to see a doctor first thing tomorrow! The promise turned out to a necessity. Tuesday morning it looked as if someone had punched him in the eye; black and blue. Now will you go???
While I was at work, Seth navigated himself to the nearest clinic. “I was in and out in ten minutes,” as he says. And? The doctor took one look and knew immediately what it was, an eye stye. He called his nurse in the room to assist with the procedure of draining the cyst. Seth said they carried on a discussion in Tamil for a few minutes before getting down to work, ignorance is bliss they say. However, apparently not all words can be spoken in Tamil, like the words, “eye” and “needle.” Yep, pretty gross. The black and blue was caused from the infection not being able to drain. Strange things happen to people in India. They lowered the needle to the cyst and upon insertion, blood and puss came spurting out. He was handed a cotton ball, sent to pay his bill and given a list of antibiotics to purchase. The office visit, combined with the antibiotics totaled less than $5.00 USD.
Vacationing
As noted before, we did not go back to the States for Christmas. We had a nice long break, 3 weeks, where some time was spent on the Andaman Islands. The Andaman Islands are owned by India and only a 2.5 hour flight from Chennai. The weather report promised a week of rain, thunder, and lightening, how lovely. As luck would have it, the only water we saw falling from the sky was a light mist during our 2.5 hour ferry ride from Port Blair to Havelock Island. The rest of the stay was beautiful. We stayed at a nice little resort on Havelock Island, Symphony Palms. Our days were spent snorkeling, reading, playing cards, eating, drinking, swimming, and exploring the island, but only after Seth turned in his last two homework assignments online. The only Internet access on the island was conveniently located across the street at the Internet café; a straw hut with dial up service. It only took an hour to upload 2 assignments. Bravo for technology!
The following day we went snorkeling. We had strict orders to be ready by 7:00 am for pick-up. Remarkably enough the cab service was on time. We were driven 50 yards to our destination spot (really? Had we know), and proceeded to be shuffled around in disorganized chaos until 9:00 am when we were rushed to the boat. The boat looked like a row boat with a closed bow and a motor attached to the back. Nine of us were shoved into the boat and the gear was loaded only to discover we still needed gas. Typical. Without a care in the world, the can was lifted into the boat, with gas sloshing out of the can, into the boat and all over some poor girl’s feet and legs. This type of christening must happen to all the tourists because not one Indian blinked an eye, offered to wash it off, or even looked slightly apologetic. I was having flashbacks to my earlier days in Mexico. Leaving the shore was more difficult than need be. We were bumping and banging into the anchored boats surrounding us. Seth crawled onto the bow of the boat to give us a massive shove. Even more shocking than the service up to this point was the fact that the fiberglass bowed enough to support Seth’s weight without snapping. Good thing too, because had he fallen through the bow, I’m certain the bottom of the boat would have given out entirely. By 10:00 am we were on our way.
The next day we wanted to go on a Jungle Trek, advertised at our resort on a large wooden sign in front of reception. As it turned out, not a person around knew anything about such a trek. Instead we rented a scooter for $5.00 USD a day and did some of our own exploring. Seth hopped on the back, put me in charge of scooting, and off we went with a teaspoon of gas in the tank. We passed by the gas station about 7 times before stopping at the only grocery store where gas could be purchased from a tin can in the back. Finally we were on our way to Radanagar Beach or Beach #7. Radanagar Beach was voted the number one beach in SE Asia; bold claim but enough to lure us there.
The beach was amazing. We spent a couple of nice days there, lounging around and taking walks. Down the beach and around the corner was a small cove, the scene of an awful tragedy in April. A young woman was eaten by a salt-water crocodile. Of course the tourist guide doesn’t advertise this and we only first heard about it before departure. The only display of caution came from a small sign, “Swimming and snorkeling not recommended here.” I should say not.
The stay at Havelock Island came to an end all too soon and off we went to Port Blair Island. We were greeted at the ferry landing by our driver; a young Indian man with an earring, a shiny black car, a keen sense of style, and flair for good music. We tore off down the street bumping to the tunes of Eminem. Maybe he thought we’d feel more at home listening to the vulgar lyrics chanted in English, and if truth be told, we did. “Stop at the liquor store before the airport,” we dictated knowing there couldn’t possibly be any judgment coming from this fine, young man. Liquor is super cheap on Port Blair and with the New Year approaching, it was a must.
We arrived to the airport on time, liquor securely stowed away in the suitcase. I went through security first and left Seth with the luggage full of booze just in case there was a problem. The shuttle to the plane arrived late. We were hurried along and told to be seated promptly because the runway at Chennai would be closing at 2:30 pm and if we arrived late, we wouldn’t be able to land. What kind of an airport closes the runway mid-day or ever for that matter? After listening to safety instructions in Tamil and then again in English, we were on our way, landing safely and on time.
New Years Eve and More Food Poisoning
The families at our apartment complex organized a New Years Eve party on the rooftop. We woke up New Years Eve day, ready to prep for the evening. While breakfast was cooking, Seth grabbed a yogurt out of the fridge, and polished it off in no time flat. Within 5 minutes Seth looked at me, turned around, and grabbed the empty yogurt cup from the trash to read the expiration date; December 11. Seriously, Seth? Just like the milk, yogurt is pasteurized here but the shelf time is short. And just like the milk, I don’t eat yogurt in India either. An hour later, noon by now, Seth was throwing up and going to the bathroom for the next 9 hours straight. The only time he got up, other than to use the bathroom, was to make a guest appearance on the rooftop, water cup in hand, a true indication of how sick he really was. The evening didn’t go as planned, but we still rung in the new year together which is all that really matters. By January 1, the only effect of the food poisoning was extreme dehydration. Several tall glasses of lemon water mixed with equal parts sugar and salt and he was good to go. I told Seth, in my most loving and caring of ways, since he is unable to read expiration dates, he is permanently banned from ALL dairy products in India with the exception of cheese and if I caught him trolling around the dairy in the stores there would be a heavy price to pay. Now both Seth and I do not drink milk, or eat yogurt in India.
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