Tuesday, August 4, 2009

Guerrilla






Here I am, in our nations capitol. Every night I sleep a little sounder knowing that Obama is within a 6 mile radius of me. I am temporarily stationed (as per usual) here as a nanny for a lovely little baby, named Dvora Tova. I have mostly been spending my weekends at the amazing AND free museums that D.C. has to offer. My favorites are the Natural History Museum, and the 5 building art museum --packed full of Rodin, Van Gogh, Warhol, and the likes--. Lucky me.
I have also discovered Guerrila Gardening. This is the act of planting in neglected private/public land. So far I have filled some lonely planters with cilantro and parsley, and filled in some tree cubes with buckwheat. Hopefully they will look less pathetic soon! Here are the before pictures, check back for the afters.

Friday, August 22, 2008

Oh the Cheese!!

Katie: WHy do the Indian men stare at the western women like this? It's so disrespectful.

Olly: Because in American movies men get the women easy, in Hindi movies they have to sing and dance.

On that note please watch the cheese that is Bollywood. How Snoop ended up with this crowd I may never know.

Prepare yourself for an intense giggle:

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

The first hair is free

India is not a clean place. Not everywhere is dirty, but then you walk out the door and the illusion is ruined. Today I took my backpack to the luggage room at the train station. I have a full day until my 20 hour ride back to Mumbai and didn't want to lug my now stuffed backpack throughout the crowded streets of Delhi. As I waited in line I looked at the people around me, those who were not blatantly staring at me were either blowing snot rockets, very publicly touching their willies, or holding their undiapered baby at a distance so that it could defecate on the ground. Once in the luggage room I was assured that my backpack wouldn't get lonely in the company of the hundreds of rats moving about on the ground. I'm sure as soon as I left they burst into song ala Cinderella and starting sweeping the place up a bit. I'm sorry I missed it.

This has inspired me (along with the 3 more hours I have to kill) to jot down a few of the more disgusting food tales from my trip. I've had to become rather forgiving, one small bug (with the excwption of a roach) or hair and I'll pick it out. After that I have to say something, which is usually an ordeal. For example, the other day I ordered fruit, muesli, curd at a new restaurant. Upon stirring I noticed a black fleck. I picked out some sort of gnat and started looking more carefully, as I dug deeper I found atleast 5 of the lil' buggers. I called over my waitress, it went like this:

ME- Hey, um, theres like a bunch of bugs in my breakfast.

Waitress: Oh.... No mam

ME- What, No? See theres lots of them, you can even see his lil' legs.

Waitress- Oh no, this is rice bug, very clean, no problem

Me- I think it's a problem, you see, I'm not a big bug fan, in fact I'm a vegetarian

It took several minutes of this to get her to take it back for something else.

One day Olly's luck was particularly bad, he found a mouse poop in his curd at breakfast, which the waiter insisted that it had fallen in after it was served. The very same day he found feathers in his chicken chow mein. The waiter, very simply stated "No sir, these vegetables." To which Olly replied, "Oh is that what you call feathers in this region?"

Another time I had tofu fried rice with loads of coarse little hairs. I was a bit confounded because all of the hair was blonde. I showed my waiter and he disappeared into the kitchen for several minutes. When he returned he looked relieved. "Mam, is only hair from canvas bag, so now you eat." I don't know if canvas is considered a delicacy in some parts, but I had the feeling my stomach wouldn't appreciate it all to much.

Don't even get me started on the coffee. One day I got really excited because a restaraunt had filter coffee on the menu, what they brought out was a similar consistency to wet soil. They just put powdered coffee through a filter.

A day dream of sorts

I walk into a Starbucks and say "I'll have a tall cup of the house coffee, no room for cream, and where is your bathroom?" At which point I wander into the palacial American bathroom, with no need to bring my own toiletpaper.

Isn't that beautiful?

Signing off

I'm Katie Leaper