Happy Birfday to me!

Charles and I actually celebrated my birthday yesterday with a day of R and R and a very shi shi dinner out.  We slept in, had a nice breakfast at the hotel, read the newspaper and booked our hotel for Paris (I absolutely do know how lucky I am).  Then we went and worked out at the health club and sunned ourselves for a while.  This was a momentous occasion because I’ve been saving my favorite magazine, Real Simple, for this day.  It’s been hard to leave it untouched in my rucksack.  The afternoon was just nice.  And the sun was out!  We’ve been suffering through overcast and rainy days lately, so a Sunday full of sun was welcome.  Charles was going to try to read fiction *gasp* but ended up playing cricket on my cell phone.  The upside, he now knows how to play cricket.  Then we got ready for my special birthday dinner.

 I haven’t written about this yet, but we’ve been able to take advantage of the hotel’s happy hour.  They have a lounge where all the traveling businessmen meet up in the evenings for free drinks and Indian appetizers.  It’s really quite nice.  I’m almost always the only woman in the room.  Like I’ve said, there are plenty of European and American businessmen around the hotel, and Bangalore in general.  So last night we had a drink, some munchies, and schmoozed with this week’s worth of business travelers (Two gentlemen from St Louis who work for Boeing).  It’s reaffirmed the need to be good at small talk, and it is an art I’m just now appreciating.  Some people can do it, and some just can’t.  I digress. 

Dinner was at Blue Ginger, a Thai restaurant in the Taj West End hotel, perhaps the most famous, and certainly the oldest, hotel in Bangalore.  I’d watched a program  on the Travel Channel featuring the Taj in Bangalore because it’s one of the few “Grand Old Ladies” build under British Imperialism that hasn’t been turned into a government building or fallen into disrepair.  This hotel is amazing.  It’s ornate and beautiful, and has not only the large main hotel building, but several small guest cottages.  It’s also famous for employing a botanist to tend the thousands of plant species first installed by the British.  Bangalore is at 3000 ft, so it can support plants from lower and higher elevations easily, leading to really beautiful and diverse flora.  I’ve learned in our short time here that India does DRAMA really well.  The restaurant was a series of white tents surrounded by water.  It was like a mini island, dramatically draped in beautiful bright fabrics, dripping with candles, and full of pillows.  Think fabric blowing in the evening breeze and the sound of palm fronds rubbing.  There were wicker seats with silk pillows, lounge areas, an open kitchen, hanging lanterns, gigantic handcrafted ceramic vases, and the constant sound of water moving and bubbling over the little water features.  There was champagne, prawns, white fish and beef, and crèm brule!    Cheers!

Today I woke up to a great surprise.  Paula from Bibelot sent me two pictures of the ladies dressed up in birthday garb holding a sign wishing me a happy birthday.  It made my day to see Camille, Jenny, Paula, Lisa, and Shaun wearing goofie glasses and hats.  It was so thoughtful.  The well wishes didn’t stop there.  Somehow the hotel staff know it’s my birthday (Charles said he had nothing to do with it) and I’ve been truly overwhelmed with the number of well wishers I’ve had today. I know that we’ve been here for a while, and I’m a memorable face among all the men and the brown faces, plus I’m kind to the people I interact with everyday (of course!).  At breakfast alone two of our usual servers had to shake my hand and use their best English to wish me a brilliant year.  I was stopped on the way to the gym by one of the hostesses to apologize for not wishing me a happy birthday earlier, and again, shaking my hand.  Then on the way down to the pool I was again congratulated and told that my cake would be in the room shortly.  The cake!   Birthdays here are a big deal.  I knew something was up when Deepak also had to shake my hand last night and had rehearsed my well wishes.  There is no way you can go under the radar here. 

This afternoon I ran some errands, which usually isn’t blog-worthy, but today’s trip into central Bangalore lead me to Health & Glow, a beauty supply store.  The products here are astounding!  I’ve talked about the preference for light skin and the skin whitening products, but today I was face to face with a full aisle of lightening and whitening products.  It’s nuts!  These products promise to lighten skin by two shades in 14 days.  I’m a label reader, so these products contain lemon extract, salicylic acid, AHAs, and lots of exfoliants.  I learned that cotton balls are cotton wool, that nail polish is nail varnish, and that a white lady walking into Health & Glow does not go unnoticed.  I wasn’t left alone the entire time I was there.  I told the lady my problems; brittle hair from the chemical laiden tap water, unvarnished nails (!), and oily skin from the warm weather, and POOF!  The hook up.  The products are interesting, and I tried to avoid things I could find at home, despite my brand loyalty and the fear that I’ll turn into one big zit.  You only live once.  Typical of any Indian store, it was small, cramped, dirty, loud, and disorganized.  Shopping is an adventure here.  After the beauty supplies were firmly on my person, I walked down to Church Street to find my magazine guy.  I am absolutely in love with Indian magazines.  I have a real love for magazines anyway, something about the glossy pages, the leisure of reading them, whatever it is, it’s only made better by reading about fashion, exercise, and how to care for your family through the Indian lense.  I think what I’ve learned from my books on Indian culture is eclipsed by what I learn about Indian life from my magazines.  I’ll bring some home to show what I mean.  Indian Cosmopolitan, Better Homes & Gardens, and People are my favorites.  Also of note, while I will never get used to the visible poverty, I have become more comfortable saying no to beggars.  The way that I give is through the Overseas Women’s Club and my English lessons with Oasis (more on that later), not through giving money on the street.  The harassment is intense  but you just can’t give.  The worst is when you see an elderly woman holding a baby; perfectly orchestrated to elicit maximum guilt. 

Ok, off to plan dinner.  I’m looking forward to the time when going out to a restaurant is once again a ‘treat,’ not a daily chore.  We hope to move into our apartment this weekend or early next week.  Fingers crossed!

XOXO Kim

Wine Club

Charles has some serious hair; his one vanity.  Well, that and he’s really really good looking.  We’ve been here for three weeks and CW’s hair needed  a trim, so we had our first experience with an Indian beauty salon!  I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t happy it’s him who test drove the salon because I’ve got my hair vanity too, you know.  This was on of “the best” European style salons in Bangalore, and if that’s true then I’m terrified of what some of the “just average” or “worst” ones are like.  This place was packed full of people, like all of India, and there was shorn hair all over (even in the magazine I read as I waited), the hairdryers were tossed onto the hair-covered floor between uses, and if the scissors and combs are cleaned then we didn’t see it.  He paid about $10 for the cut, and gave a $1.50 tip.  It looks OK, but they kind of took the tip off of his signature point.  L  After the salon experience, we went off to pick up a few bottles of wine and dessert for tonight’s wine dinner with the OWC Wine Club!

Karen and her driver Moses (related to Deepak somehow) picked us up for the 90 minute drive from Bangalore to Soma Veneyards , Maakli Hills, Doddaballapur.  The ride took us out to a rural area for the first time.  We saw farms, hills, small villages and hamlets, Hindu temples, cows, sheep, goats and monkeys.  Moses followed the directions given by the Wine Club, which lead us on this horribly bumpy, twisty-turny, washed out road once we left the paved “freeway.”  We were following hugely overloaded trucks, watching out for guys on two wheelers, and trying to find our way.  It was a real adventure.  The best part of the ride was when we saw these really aggressive monkeys and Moses starts to whistle and clap while Charles had the window down to take a picture…and they lunged as if to jump in the car!  It scared the crap out of the Americans.  Moses just laughed.

I was not prepared for the beauty of Indian wine country.  This vineyard was stunning.  STUNNING!  The vineyard is in a valley between hills, facing a lake.  The colors of India are so vibrant; dark red clay soil, bright blue sky, and vibrant green grape leaves.  The vines are supported by granite posts, and though it’s fall, the foliage is still green, not brown and dying.  We were immediately met by the Wine Club, given fresh coconuts to drink, and walked the vineyard.  Truth be told, our tour of the vineyard was as much a tour to fine a good place to pee as anything.  That was one long car ride!  The plan for the evening was to talk with Soma Vineyards owner, Rajus, taste the wines we all brought, and BBQ in the starlight. 

We met at least 20 other Expats that night, including Brian who will be our block away neighbor once we move from the hotel.  I also met Rita and another Karen who work for Oasis, a non-profit that teaches English to slum girls and gives them vocational training so they can break from the cycle of poverty.  Guess who starts Tuesday?  You know it.  Not only do they teach slum girls, this organization sends operatives in to pluck girls from the rampant prostitution rings.  Human trafficking is big here, as is prostitution.  This is a third world country. 

The whole evening was idyllic; beautiful scenery, good wine, great people, and some fine steak.  Yes, steak.  

Lady in Red

Saturday, November 7^th

Ok, so I realize that pub culture is pretty ubiquitous, but today was something I've never experienced. After a day of more bad apartment visits, INCLUDING hearing Tina say the word "Japs" in reference to a Japanese tenant, we decided it was time for beer. A neighboring hotel advertises an Irish pub, the Dublin, so we thought we should go. I'm writing this with a stupid grin on my face because just thinking of it is making me laugh. We went to and Irish bar, in India, drank Indian beer and had fish and chips. As if that wasn't enough, they had a cover band. These were 5 guys, with their posse of friends, singing bad songs from the 80s and 90s. These guys were reading the song lyrics off of their cell phone! Apparently you can download a lyrics application. So we're the two white people in the pub, listening to this cover band and enjoying our Kinfisher, when Charles decides that we need to request a song. I, for some stupid reason, decide that these guys must know "Lady in Red." So Charles requests it and the dedication goes out "To Keem from Chalees." These guys sing songs that I know all the words to, because that's my idiot savant skill, and we just end up having a big sing along. If we weren't being stared at before, well now it's out of control. It was a pretty great night.

Overseas Women’s Club

Thursday, November 5^th

Today I joined a club that is going to be my saving grace here in Bangalore. The Overseas Women's Club of Bangalore is a club dedicated to making the move to India do-able, and provides a support group for the "trailing spouses," which, I guess, I am. They have coffee hours, book clubs, lunch clubs, cooking classes, happy hours, wine club, and just generally organize events for Expats. The best thing is, they have volunteer positions with reputable charities already set up and all I need to do is pick one! The bad thing is, at today's meeting they actively discouraged me from signing up to volunteer until we're settled into an apartment. I'm not sure why that makes a difference, but until we're settled, I can't volunteer. The charity list just about makes you cry. There are organizations for the elderly who have been kicked onto the street because their families can't take care of them, tutoring for children with HIV-AIDS, groups to assist the blind, etc. It just breaks your heart. I know there are these kinds of organizations at home too, but with a population of 8.1 million, and people visibly sleeping on the streets and eating garbage in alleyways, this seems worse. Oh yeah, and today I learned that every conversation with other adult Expats inevitably leads to a discussion of your bowels. Adults here talk about poop, a lot. I'm just going to channel my inner 13 year old.

After coffee club, Charles and I went to Commercial Street to get a real taste of shopping with the people. We went to a restaurant with no menu descriptions and servers who spoke no English, and the most disgusting bathroom I've ever seen. We ate dangerously, but it turns out we got some awesome food. If we were going to get sick from food, Commercial Street would be the worst place possible. It was wall to wall people on one block with shops everywhere, and more people and more shops off the side streets. Beggars with no arms, or kids trying to shine your shoes saying "Hey auntie, hey uncle, shine your shoes?" Dogs eating garbage in the street and pooping on the sidewalk. Street hawkers. Fruitwallas. Vegwallas. Just people everywhere! I think both Charles and I were inches away from a panic attack. I needed to leave after an hour because it was just exhausting being in that kind of a foreign environment.

Work Week Groove

Monday, Nov 2^nd-Wed, Nov 4^th

With Charles off to work now, we've settled into an Indian work-week groove. Most of you know that I haven't been working beyond my part-time retail job at Bibelot since the last day of school in June. I've come to terms with my idle hours by creating some sort of routine to manage all of that free time. I'm used to teaching plus working part time, so it's been a difficult adjustment for me. Routine helps. We get up, Charles goes to the gym, we have a leisurely breakfast at the hotel, and then Deepak picks Charles up for work. I read the Deccan Herald and Times of India newspapers then head to the gym where I spend as much time as I can. It's hot in there and there aren't that many machines, and the heaviest free weight is 25lbs, but I'm doing what I can. Then I decide whether or not to go down to the restaurant for lunch, call Deepak to have him take me somewhere, or just chill here. I have a lot of time for leisure reading, reading about our surroundings and finding restaurant recommendations, keeping up on my correspondences, writing for this blog, and chatting to the guys who work at the hotel. Sometimes Deepak and I go to run errands, but not often. Everything we need is here at the hotel, so it's silly to create difficult and ultimately pointless errands. I know it will all change when we have an apartment and I'm again able to cook and need to set up a household. THEN I'll have purposeful errands and Deepak won't know what he's in for. I'm not a recreational shopper (like for clothing), so that's not fun for me, or necessary, or even easy. Getting things done here is not a simple matter. For example, my first trip to an Indian Supermarket was this week. It was essentially a scouting mission, but it taught me that I can get most of the kind of personal care items we need at these pretty convenient shops. I've been talking to other Expats and I think we're going to be able to get a lot of our American food "necessities" here too, it will just take a lot of time to find.

 

I realized this week that I absolutely must get my volunteering assignment settled. When Deepak took me to the supermarket on Tues we passed a bunch of school children going home for the day. I almost wept. I need to be productive. After almost 6 months out of the classroom, I have to teach somebody something, and soon.

Wanted Brides - Wanted Grooms

Sunday, November 1st



The Sunday paper has a special 3 page spread to help parents find a helpmate for their kids. Believe it!

I want my MTVindia

Saturday, October 31^st

Charles and I are avid exercisers, of the cardio equipment and lifting variety, so we are happy to take advantage of the small workout room at the hotel. (If you're interested, http://www.lemeridien-bangalore.com/) While working out, I discovered something life changing; MTVindia. It's frickin' awesome. Indian music videos have bright costumes, lots of dancing, slap-stick physical comedy, upbeat songs, sappy love stories, strange Indian interpretations of American pop culture, and blond ladies, lots of blond ladies. Not sure why, but I guess they represent ideal beauty, which is stupid because Indian women are BEAUTIFUL. Speaking of, I've realized that in India the fairer you are, the prettier you are. There are a whole mess of products aimed at lightening your skin. It's really a racket here. You can get sunscreens, lotions, potions, etc, all aimed at lightening your complexion. I'm used to the idea of tan=healthy and desirable, the opposite of here. Anyway, look up MTV India. I'm sure youtube has something!

 

Saturday was apartment hunting with Tina and it was pretty frustrating. Tina works with a holdings company affiliated with SUPERVALU, and we hoped she would have scouted some of these units before taking us all around Bangalore to see them, but that wasn't the case. We saw "Serviced" and "Non-serviced Furnished" apartments. A serviced apt means that it's a full apartment (bedrooms, baths, kitchen, living room, etc) inclusive of all furniture, linens, dishes, cookware, down to the cheesy hotel paintings on the walls. These serviced apartments also have a cleaning staff that visits once a week, and most of them have some sort of restaurant either on ground level or rooftop. The first place we saw was the best thing in Bangalore, The Oakwood. Karen, Charles' coworker who has been here for 4 months already, lives there and gave us a special tour. It has a full gym, spa, rooftop pool, community room, restaurants and shopping below, and is really nice. I'd love to live there, but we're at the mercy of SUPERVALU. We saw a few other serviced apts, but they were small and only glorified hotel rooms, inclusive of no stove and only mini-bar sized refrigerators. The non-service apartments were gross and grosser, particularly after seeing the Oakwood. They ranged from this strange feng-shui minimalist 3 bedroom (plus servant's quarters!) which would have been cool if it hadn't been filthy and covered with bird feathers and poo, to these granite palace like apartments that I worried I'd be lost in. Ok, so the idea of living in a 3 bedroom granite palace with a servant seems kind of cool at first, but that's a whole lot of living space to occupy. These non-serviced places come with a couch, table, tv, bed frame with mattress, and that's it. We, or SUPERVALU, would be responsible for purchasing everything that makes it a home. You know, linens, blankets, pillows, pots and pans, glasses, utensils, the works. That's daunting, considering there are no Westernized big box stores or department stores. I don't know where to begin to look for that kind of stuff. It's overwhelming to think of finding things to fill a 3 bedroom home. Predictably, serviced apartments are more expensive than the non-serviced, but the convenience of serviced is undeniable.

Now I go back to the idea of a servant and servant's quarters. In India, all middle class people have servants. Like 2 or 3. Everybody has a driver, most have a cook and/or housekeeper/maid, and anyone with kids will tell you they couldn't function without their Ayah. There is a whole industry in Bangalore, as through the whole of India, which caters to setting up families with those domestic servants. If we get an unserviced granite palace, we'll need a maid, or at least that's what Tina said. Interestingly enough, she told us she has a driver, a cook, and an Ayah. She said that she wouldn't live anywhere else in the world because she knows that this is a luxury which we Americans don't understand or aren't familiar with. I told her I like to cook, and she said "If you're lucky you can get a smart girl to cook and she can learn what you like, do your shopping for you, and teach you how to cook Indian food." What's the other option, that I get a dumb one? Really? Also, she talks about the drivers in such an "I'm aware of my status as compared to your status" way which is really new, coming from super politically correct America. You would never speak about anyone else like that at home, but Indians do it all the time. It's the status quo. I know that technically castes are illegal, or you're not supposed to take them into consideration for employment, or treat them like social pariahs, but that doesn't mean that that isn't how the general Indian psyche still functions. Middle class Indians are VERY aware of their social status and position. Oh yeah, the servant's quarters included a toilet, a water hose, and a 4X4 room. It's like the pit of despair. Our closet at home is larger.

 

Tina also gave me some insight into Indians abroad. She said that here, there are no real rules and it just works out somehow. She said that Indians don't survive abroad; too many rules. She has siblings who live in the UK and the US, and every time they visit they leave shaking their heads, but she loves it here and would never move. She looks at her sisters and pities them that they have to work, go shopping, care for the kids, all on their own. Life is good here in India for middle class working women.

 

Oh god, then we went to the mall, Garuda Mall, to be exact. No matter where you are on the planet, teenagers love to go to the mall on a Saturday, drink soda, mess with their buddies, pine for overpriced T-shirts, and steal an elicit hand-holding with their boyfriend on the escalator. Shocking! No, seriously, teenagers are the same here as at home, down to the clothes. Ok, so no emo kids, but jeans, t-shirts, and trendy tennis shoes abound. There were a couple of other Expats at the mall that day too, and I'll bet they got stared at as much as we did. The staring is intense wherever we go. This is my first experience being a minority. I wonder how long it will take to get used to, the staring, that is. Charles doesn't notice it as much, but that may be because he doesn't get the brunt of it. There are lots of white dudes here in India for work, but few white females. Thank goodness I'm not blond! Charles actually saw a sales associate at the Puma store push someone else out of the way so Charles could come in and look at shoes. How messed up!

Indian Cell Phone!

Friday, October 30^th
Friday we felt relatively with it, considering the dramatic time change, so we decided to run some errands. At home, I would take it for granted that I jump into my nice clean car, drive along organized and clean streets, and within minutes I'm at my favorite shops. It's easy. Errands here are a whole new thing. First, you have to call your driver and arrange a time. This may take an hour. Second, you have to mentally prepare for the communication gap and the difficulties you will face finding reasonable facsimiles of things that you want. Third, the traffic. I cannot begin to describe the traffic. There are no highways, no lanes, no rules. You see hired cars, like we have, taxis, busses, auto rickshaws, mopeds, people on bikes, cows, dogs, families of FOUR crunched onto one motorbike, newspaper boys, beggars, construction workers laying a sewage pipe in the red clay soil, brave/crazy pedestrians, and horns, horns, everywhere horns. Horn use in India is something we have yet figure out, but I've got some theories. Sometimes a beep means, "Hey, watch out, I'm a little moped in your blindspot." Other times it's "Get your head out of your ass." Mostly it's "Hooray! A green light! Let's GOOOO," that one's my favorite; the enthusiastic Victory Toot.
I was in need of a cell phone and Deepak knew right where to take us. I'm not fluent in Hindi or cell phone, so this experience made me sweat instantly and I could feel the blood pump in my carotid. Talk about out of your element. Airtel is a huge mobile service provider here and you'll never believe how little we paid for a cell phone. All said, the phone itself, the activation and SIM card, and 100 INR (Indian Rupees) worth of "Talk time" came to about $50. One minute costs half an INR. At this rate, I won't need to buy more minutes until after we come home for the holidays. To get a phone I had to bring, and this has become sort of second nature as I write this a week later, a copy of my passport and a 2x2 photo. I had to sign the contract in 10 apparently random spots, and was informed that I needed to bring proof of residency the next day. A letter from my hotel would suffice. This whole interaction took 2 minutes but I was whipped! Plus, Indians have no personal bubble, so the whole time we're talking my customer service guy is 3 inches from my face and our forearms are touching. Also, the head bob! In India, you will see what looks to Westerners as an on its side, figure 8 "no." It can mean different things in different situations, but mostly "Yes, I understand, but I don't necessarily agree with you," or "Yes, I agree with you." You have to be native Indian to know the difference. So, this guy is in my space, head bobbing at me, and talking cell phone in heavily accented English. It's amazing we got out of there with a cell phone that works. I really felt like a bumbler. Did I mention my phone is labeled in Hindi? I guess it's Sanskrit, but what a trip.
Friday we also met Tina Manavalan, the woman who is helping us to find an apartment. Hotel living seems like it would be a lazy man's paradise, but it gets old fast. I miss cooking and it's frustrating to eat every meal of every day in a restaurant. Tomorrow we see what kind of apartments Bangalore has to offer.

First 2 Days

There is so much to tell.

Tues, October 27th -Thursday early am

Thanks to my little bro for dropping us off at the airport. I miss you every day Brian. Charles only misses you like once every other day, maybe every 3. You know.

Our flights were fine, though 27 hours in transit is physically and mentally taxing, particularly when you’re making a life changing move. SUPERVALU only sent Charles business class and we had to pay for my flights on our own (had we been married, or if I were a dude, it would have been on the company's dime, much like my individual health insurance, which is another story altogether.) so I flew coach. Charles insisted that I take business class for the second big leg of the trip, from Paris to Bangalore. I was being stubborn and wanted to sit in back "with the chickens and goats" the whole time, reasoning that I wouldn't miss or begrudge him business class if I didn't know what I was missing. I just thought that if one of us had to sit in back, it may as well be me. I'm pretty decent at being a martyr. The thing about Charles is, he's kind. He said the whole way from Chicago to Paris he was worried that I was miserable. I must say, business class is the way to go for a 10 hour flight. I wonder how many trips to India I have to make to get the upgrade the whole way? Is it more than 2? Oh yeah, and I finally got to see X-Men Wolverine.

In the Bangalore airport they had this thermal monitor that showed everyone's temp as they walked through to screen for H1N1. It was pretty awesome. Indian customs and immigration was a breeze. Every last piece of our luggage arrived on time and one of Charles' new coworkers, Suneeta, picked us up from the airport with our driver for the next year, Deepak. At this point in the journey it gets fuzzy because I remember getting into the car, arriving at the hotel, looking at Charles and saying "What have we done?" and falling asleep, but little else. Special thanks to Jenny for suggesting the iTunes White Noise. It's awesome.

Thursday, October 29th

Now we enter the world of Jet Lag. It's a bitch. Charles and I thought we wouldn't have any trouble at all. You know, pop a couple of Ambien, turn on the white noise, and we'd be out. NOT HOW IT WORKS. I woke up Thursday morning at the 5:30 am call to prayer (after going to bed at 3) and could not fall back asleep. Add to that the constant honking going on outside (I'll explain more later) and the pack of wild dogs barking, and I could not go back asleep. We tried to do like all the books suggest and just pick up with the new time zone, but it was rough. That day we were pretty useless. We played a game of magical rooms; changing our room 3 times over the course of the afternoon. The first was way too tiny for 2 people for a month, the second was great but next to a room they were remodeling using some loud tools, and finally into our current posh digs. We're in an executive suite now and will be for the next month while we finalize an apartment. Beyond moving all of our belongings three times, Thursday was a day of naps. At one point we did the kind of thing where you know you're sleeping and someone just rang the doorbell, but you physically cannot move. You can hear and you can think, but you can't move. That day we also experienced our first annoyance with Indian hotels; the employees will NOT leave you alone. Someone is checking on you all the frickin' time. Today alone I've invited three workers into the room to clean, or bring in our daily fruit, or new bottles of water, or just to see if I'm OK and if my lunch was good. They check on you a lot.

The two highlights from Thursday include our experience exchanging money, and our Indian Date Night One Year Anniversary Extravaganza.

Easy math, there are 50 Rupee to the American dollar. When we exchanged $300 we got such a fat stack of bills that Charles made every young rapper's dream come true. He actually looked at me, looked at the bed, and said he was "gonna' make it RAIN!" I don't know when I've laughed harder.

Charles and I had our first date October 29th of last year, so we had Indian Date Night One Year Anniversary Extravaganza. It was lovely. We were too tired to call Deepak and choose a restaurant in the city so we ate at one of the hotel restaurants. It was honestly the coolest thing. They had tables set up next to the pool under a canopy with candles all over, the pool bubbled in the background, there was a soft breeze, and these huge dragonflies skimmed the pool. We had a very decent bottle of Indian wine, a great dinner, and got to listen to three Hindu guys sing. We decided before we left the US that we should try and stick to a veg diet the first month or so while our insides adjust, so we had these delicious grilled soft white Indian cheese and tomato things, and a mushroom and onion dish with yogurt sauce, and my favorite; garlic naan. The servers are super nice and they were shocked that two Americans didn't order meat. Our server decided he had to bring us some green chicken curry, lest we perish. It was awesome. And there, ladies and gentlemen, goes our vegetarian existence. It lasted one day. Our server sent a bottle of wine to the room (where room service sent up a “boy” to open it. This dude was 40 years old), and that is how we slept for 8 hours straight. Finally.