Contemplating My Navel

by Annie Anderson

  • Home
  • About
  • Musings
  • Travel Adventures
  • Keto!
  • Short Stories
  • Contact

The Serenity Prayer – India #2

August 25, 2018 by Annie Anderson

Learning the true meaning of the “Serenity Prayer”
Well folks,

Here it is again, time to blog. If only everything was this easy here. To pick up where we left off yesterday, Amber and I went to go see a travel agent to get our tickets to Delhi secured. Sonja had suggested we go to several to make sure we got the best price.

Well, the first one we went and saw was in a nice clean establishment, but the ladies who operated the desk were less than friendly. Apparently service does not always come with a smile. To make a looooooooooooooong story short, we decided to leave their establishment, in search of travel agent number two. She was busy, so we went across the street to door number three. After much discussion with him, his price was significantly higher than the rude women, but we didn’t want to buy tickets from them based solely on principle, so we returned to door number two. She was again busy, but with another customer.

Deciding now we could take things into our own hands and just buy the tickets online, we went back to our internet cafe and logged into 4 different Westjet type local airlines to do our own shopping. One hour later, we decided on what we were going to buy, to only then find that you could only purchase them with a LOCAL Indian credit card. VISA just won’t do everywhere I guess.

Back to door number two. Still busy.

In an effort to gain some perspective, we decide lunch is in order, and then we can meet up with Sonja after she has done her yoga.

Good thing Captain Highliner makes tuna in a can, cause Amber still decides she doesn’t like curry and things like vindaloo and masala just don’t sound like something that doesn’t have curry in it…so tuna sandwiches will now be her staple lunch. Sonja and I however dive face first into curried this and spicy that, naan bread with spinach and hummous dip, rice and of course…chai tea.

Lunch now over, Sonja heads to the internet cafe and we head back on our hunt for the elusive plane ticket.

Back to door number three. We inform him of our new pricing that we got on the internet and he agreed to match it. However, what we then found out was that allegedly the prices change from minute to minute, and that the price was now several hundred dollars more, only 20 minutes later. Hah, I say!

Principles out the window, we truck back up to door number one, almost 4 hours later now, tell her which airlines we want tickets on, negotiate the “fee” for using their Indian credit card, and walk out with tickets only $2 more than what we could have paid ourselves if we had had our own card.

Are you confused and exhausted now just reading this? My shoulders are cramping remembering what it took to finally get it done.

In an effort now to relax, we head to the beach. It is then we try and negotiate a scooter for Sonja to ride for the week. She has found that it is much more expensive here than in Mysore, so she has started to choke on the price the guy is haggling with her for the scooter, and I am sure I am going to need to set down my bag and start the Hindlick remover on Sonja!!!

We finally get him down to a price she can live with, take the keys and saunter past all the gyspies selling their wares in wooden scaffolding type huts and down to the beach.

It was beautiful to see the Arabian Sea. I thought perhaps it was the Indian ocean, but I was wrong. Very warm indeed to stroll through. We had found out though that the beach just near our hotel is much nicer, so with Sonja behind us, Amber and I head out in a motorized rickshaw for the drive back. The driving still is crazy, no matter how long we are here, I don’t think it will cease to amaze, frighten and baffle us!

Once we were back at the ranch, we checked out our own beach. Much nicer, certainly less rocks, but still the same peddlars hawking their wares. We each had a Kingfisher beer, only 750ml each! Barely worth opening the bottle! Watching the sun set, an Indian woman meditated on the rocks with the water lapping over her legs and hips. It was very serene just to watch her.

Amber and I played around being cover models for Sports Illustrated, but I don’t think we will make any covers any time soon.

It turns out though, that Indians don’t know what a cart wheel is! I was suddenly struck with the desire to cartwheel down the beach near the water, so I had Sonja tape it for me. When I was finished, there were two Indian women sitting there slack jawed, and she said, “What was that? How did you do it? What do you call that? Why did you turn your self upside down like that?” When she still didn’t get it, I did a few more and the two of them were giggling like school girls. I found out tonight from Sonja that they also don’t take swimming lessons, so most of them don’t know how to swim either.

After that, an Indian couple wanted to have us in their pictures, so they could show their family what Canadian girls look like, and ones that can turn themselves upside down while flipping down the beach….Too bad I didn’t have a touque on while I was doing it…cememt the image of a crazy Canuck once and for all.

The evening meal was next….at about 930 pm. It is too hot to eat earlier. Guess what Amber had? A pancake!

Sonja had something with curry in it, and I just told the waiter to surprise me….just no fish! I ended up with Chicken Masala and some weird rice, but it was delicious. And Amber had a pancake….

How much more fun could we girls have in the rest of the night you ask? Well, we needed now to do laundry. Everything we have is soaked in sweat and sand and who knows what else, and we all needed to scrubs socks etc.

Is there a washing machine here you ask? Nope. We had a bucket and my nail brush. Amber brought some laundry detergent with Downey, and away we went, mp3 player in hand, or rather ear…and scrubbed away.

When we were finished, it looked like a yard sale with all our clothes hanging out to dry wherever we could put them. The clothes line was full, the window rod was full, the hooks in the bathroom now occupied…

I went outside to relax in the hammock for a bit with my music while Amber was inside, only to have the rope break just after being attacked by some form of vampire ant….my arm with fang marks in it, bump on my head from crashing to the ground, and sweaty again from the heat only having just got out of the shower. Argghh!

I have to go eat something now, and shower after the day we have had, so I will end this now….

Stay tuned to find out what Amber ate today, where we went and how we managed to evade the Hell’s Angels of India in a ride for our lives on our scooters….oh, and creepy back room parlours….

We fly to Delhi tomorrow, so once we are estabishished, we will see about connecting up again before we hit the Taj Mahal….

Later skaters!

Annie and Amber

We are on the way!

November 20, 2017 by Annie Anderson

How this got to be upside down I will never know… Still playing with this site… I was hoping to post the pic of us and our luggage at the airport entrance… Lol

Well, here we sit.  Gate C52….sucking up all the free charging we can before we board the red eye to Toronto.  Technically C53 is our gate, but we are being rebels and sitting one down so we all have a plug in.

Our drive up was as smooth as butter, and once our check in was sorted, (having wrestled with bags, extra check in charges, stickers where they shouldn’t be, oversized bags…even though they weren’t….) we had a yummy supper at Montana’s.

I had to yield my lighter as apparently it was the terrorist kind, so now when I bring out the candles I brought for Alynne’s birthday dessert, they will be unlit (until Lee saves me with his standard non terrorist lighter).

We found out our waitress wants to be a lion as her spirit animal, she believes 15% is an appropriate tip, and Ester from Air Canada is good at solving over charged baggage problems.  Once I explained SHE was THE person to help us out with a little problem we had, she did just that.  Badda bing, badda boom.

Another 90 minutes to go till we are airborne, so hopefully I can finger out why my keyboard isn’t working with this mini iPad.

Have a good sleep everyone as we fly back East to our next leg of this journey.

Be well.

Epilogue to it all…..

November 11, 2017 by Annie Anderson

Well, we are home from Africa.

Freezing to death any bugs I may have brought home with me…..

We are safe.

My kids were super surprised to see me come home early, and my family and friends were happy all was well.  There were some who were able to finally exhale once we got back….and some that didn’t even realize they were holding their breath.

I know that when I go away, especially to a non-traditional place-as I am prone to do it seems, there are those who are terrified beyond belief at my travels.  They are certain that when I go, I will end up dying at the hands of a madman, or end up in some terrible wreck, alone and suffering.  They try and convince me I shouldn’t go, and life is better when it is safer.

Obviously I disagree.  I keep going to these far away places, and talk about the wonders of what the world has to offer to everyone who wants to listen.  I am glad that I do, for unless someone can guarantee me something else, we only get one time around in this life.  There are so many things to see, do, smell, eat, experience, try, and take pictures of in this world, that I don’t want to limit myself to my own backyard.  I want to inspire others to go places and do things that they never felt quite brave enough to do, until they see that someone they know and love has done it….and survived!  I hope that I keep doing that for the next 43 years.

I have done a lot of reflecting on this journey, both in it’s planning, during the trip itself, and now upon my return.  I was unable to articulate to my husband why I wanted to go, and am forever grateful for his unwavering support even though he wasn’t sure it was a good idea.  He also didn’t understand why ten years ago I went to India before our son was born.  Going places where women aren’t highly regarded wasn’t a sane choice in his mind, and he still supported me in my journey then also.  He is a good man to do this, as I know many would not.

People are asking me how the trip was.  Was it everything I thought it would be?  Would I go again?  What was the best part?  What was the worst?

I think back to why I was going to start with.

I was compelled.  I cannot say why.  I am not a religious person, but I am spiritual.  There have been times in my life where I have been completely unable to anything other that what I have done.  I cannot explain it, I cannot articulate it other than a feeling of something greater than me compelling me to.  Not even after I have done these things have the reasons become clear always.  Sometimes yes.  Sometimes immediately.  Sometimes not for years, if ever to date.

I am not totally clear on the why yet either for this.  I have had some reflections though, and those I will share.

Immediately I am clear that I am more grateful for my life now.  For not only the things I have, but the people I share them with.  I am clear on the details that I seemed to have either taken for granted, or not really noticed.  Simple things like the number of freckles on my youngest son’s nose that add to his cuteness.  Larger things like a hot, hot shower and a wonderful home with my family.

I was struck by the contrast going from Canada to Ethiopia where they country is filled with people that are lean, and strong and absent of overweight people.  When we went to Malawi, the differences in people again was striking.  My preconceptions of what people “should” look like in Africa was shattered, and that I found surprising.   Coming back to Canada I was again shocked at how Canadians look in comparison to how they looked in my mind before it was opened just a little bit wider by the world.

Again, I was struck by the fact we are sooo lucky when it comes to our healthcare and our health in general.  How easy it is for us to take advantage of all we have in front of us, and how often we don’t.  When I say we, I don’t have a mouse in my pocket.  I mean we, as Canadians.  So often people will die for the lack of what we waste, and knowing this and acting on this are two different things.

I have also been wrestling with the thought that somehow I should feel guilty for what I have.  That I should pity those with less.  Why should I?  I have been angry at this thought, and had conversations in my mind with imaginary people as I play the devil’s advocate for all positions in this discussion.  The truth is there will always be people who have more than me in life.  There will always be those who have less.  Should I help those with less when I can?  Of course.  Should I feel guilty when I have more?  Absolutely not.  Unless it has come to me in less than an upstanding way, of course (which it hasn’t for the record).  I work hard.  My family works hard.  My friends work hard.  I know no one who has inherited or won by way of lottery massive riches that has brought their lives to a standard that is above most.  People who have what they have in their life have worked hard to get there.  That does not mean they should be ashamed of what they have earned or accomplished.  This also doesn’t make me any less happy that they have something I do not.

I think about the people in Africa and the abject poverty that they live in.  Some are very happy with how things are in their lives.  Some are not.  Some are working hard to change their situation, and others are content to stand on the corner, chewing hallucinogenic grasses, whiling away their days with less than others.  The saying that ignorance is bliss can also sometimes be applied.  I am not saying that in a rude way.  Ignorance is also bliss in the lives of those with much more than those at the poverty line.  I do not know what it is like to have a jet plane at my disposal, nor to have live in house-staff, or to have a different car for every day of the week in every city I own a home.  There are many people who have these lives, and I wish for them that they don’t look at people like me with pity that I only have a minivan to drive most days.  I wish for both them, and me, and those with less than me, that we are all able to find happiness in wherever we are in our lives.  It is often perspective only after all.  Many people who are rich are unhappy or wealthy but dying.  Many of those with less wouldn’t trade what they have because they are loving everything that is in their lives on a daily basis.

But, I digress again.  Back to Africa.  Did I enjoy it?  Yes.  Were there parts I didn’t enjoy?  Also, yes.  Was I surprised at certain things?  Absolutely.

I loved how proud the people there were, and how often they would give everything they had, even though it was not much.  I loved how appreciative they were of our time spent coming to see THEM.  I loved learning new ways to dance, and understanding better how they communicate, and being able to explain to others here that what they thought was being communicated, actually may have been something different.  I didn’t love the squat potties.  Let’s be honest.  It was nasty at times.  I was grateful for hand sanitizer.  I was grateful I don’t have to raise kids as a single parent living with HIV in a home smaller than my bathroom.

Also grateful for fresh fruit and vegetables that I can buy down the street from my home.

When asked if I would go back, I say that I would.  That being said though, there are many places I have not yet gone on an adventure to, and perhaps I would like to go places for a first time first, than go back somewhere for a second time.  I would like to go to Finland and see the Northern Lights with my Dad.  I would like to go to Churchill, Manitoba and see the polar bears walking down the street with my own eyes.  I would like to take our kids to Alaska and eat picnics along the way, and that is just the start of the list….

Everywhere I go in life I have the opportunity to learn about myself and to have the world opened up just a little bit more.  For this I am grateful, and for Africa I am also grateful.

Day five

November 11, 2017 by Annie Anderson

Day Five

Had I known that mosquitos were as skilled in their hunting of prey as they are, I may have found a way to capitalize on it. I awoke this morning with another six new bites on me to add to the collection of two dozen I already have. THIS IS ALL WHILE SLEEPING IN A MOSQUITO TENT WITH A CLOSED BEDROOM WINDOW AND DOOR!! Varmints, I tell you. I am personally pushing the envelope to get my money’s worth from my malaria pills!!

We were up at the crack of dawn to prepare for a drive we didn’t need to be on time for. Africa time is very similar to Mexico time. There is a lot of hurry up and wait for something that may or may not happen. More on that later….

On the drive to Gindo, we went back in time. Marty McFly had nothing on us. The roads were lined with round wooden huts with straw thatched roofs, and hundreds of herds of animals running down the road in al directions, sheparded by kids no more than 6. They all have their own whipping sticks and aren’t afraid to use them. There were oxen being used to pull plows and most places have no electricity and none have running water. Little yellow jugs are strapped to a wooden harness that mules carry and kids sheppard with their sticks to either a brown creek or an artesian well and pump.

The tree most people associate with Africa (Or at least I do, and since this is my blog, that will be the default reality) is the Acacia tree. It tends to grow diagonally out from the ground and have the branches and leaves thick and tangled in a triangle shape. These trees line the roads and dot the landscape. Eucalyptus trees are another abundant type of tree here. They used the long straight poles to build everything here it seems. It is a very demise wood and is hard for bugs to eat through.

All right, here is one of the funniest things that has happened to us so far. We were on our three and a half hour trek to Gindo, and we stopped in Waleesoh to pick up someone also coming with us to Gindo, and to have a macchiato and to powder our noses. Though multiple translations and charades we made our intentions clear and we three women were taken down a hallway, around a corner and then suddenly we were stopped and brought back the way we came, past all our menfolk and down a different hallway. It was as though our guide was not sure where to take us. Travelling down the hallway we passed a few urinals and I wondered where we were being taken. The man leading us gesticulated that we had arrived at our final destination and we could relieve ourselves in any number of squatting potties in front of us.

For those of you who are unaware of what a squatting potty is, picture a hole in the ground that may or may not have a small foot rest or indentation for your foot to stand in, and a large expectation that you have good aim. Men are only subjected to them 50% of the time for obvious reasons and women are often appreciating the squatting potties that have a handle of sorts somewhere to grab onto for stability purposes. Hearing the panic in someone’s voice is very real when they are losing their balance in a squatting potty.

I digress….we are standing in front of tomb like entrances and Kari, Alynne and I spread out down the hall of doors to select the potty that sings to us. BTW, the hallway was singing when we approached. Singing in smells abound. As the three of us are trying doors, some are locked but the one I chose, was not. I opened the door and was not expecting to see the flashing of white teeth and the shape of a man hunched down taking a crunch over the hole only inches from my face. The sight was so disturbing and frightening, I leapt back letting out a blood curdling scream as my fight or flight instinct kicked in full force. I made eye contact with the ladies as I bolted away from the door, and I am told that the look on my face inspired abject terror in them, and so thus, they too let out blood curdling screams that them made me scream again as I was running away. It then dawned on me that I had abandoned my comrades in their time of need, so I ran back the ten feet I had gone….simper fi and all…..

Our screams had drawn the attention of EVERYONE in this hotel coffee shop and people came running from all corners of the building; Staff and constabulary alike. Our three menfolk were somewhat disturbed as they recognized the shriek of the North American Woman, but when the staff came back quickly laughing, and then heard the loud eruptions from our hysterics, they were quickly assured we had not met certain doom. I couldn’t explain right away what it was that had happened as I was laughing so hard, but as soon as I started to laugh, Kari and Alynne also knew that while it must be funny, they were still in the dark, both literally and figuratively….until the man emerged from the stall and refused to make eye contact as he exited at warp speed past us all. It all then made sense and so our fear and the humour combined into peals of laughter.

The escort that brought us there, then returned and re-escorted us back to where we were originally going to regular white porcelain toilets. Maybe that is all you have to do here to get one is to scream….(but make sure you always have a personal supply of TP because it is not standard fare to be supplied.

In the room with the porcelain toilets, there was a sign for the hotel with the rules on it. I wish I had taken a picture of it, because it was evident of time warp thoughts. For example, no two people of the same sex could share a bed, you had to surrender all your valuables to the front desk if you left the hotel etc.

We finished our business and all rejoined in the restaurant for a coffee ceremony. Once our caffeine levels were reestablished we carried on in our journey to Gindo. The balance of the drive was largely the same as the first two thirds in terms of scenery, but we also saw a bridge being built with men carrying large boulders with cot like wooden structures. The pictures will explain it better. It was like being back in time though, or watching a Flintstone’s episode. The whole time people saw us, because many had never seen a white person before, we garnered A LOT of attention.

We arrived in front of the centre to be greeted by the kids and staff alike. Lee got to have his own special greeting from a donkey braying as he exited the van. The centre was built by Canadian Humanitarian last year and it had a main hall, a second smaller hall, several offices, a kitchen, bathrooms, sleeping quarters for quests like us, two classrooms and a library. There was a playground with a slide, swing set, merry go round and a teeter totter. The whole area was secured with a 9 foot barbed wire fence. We would come to find over the next three days not only did it help keep the children in and the hyenas out, it also served as a barricade that was respected by the locals to keep the paparazzi of villagers who wanted to look inside the human zoo and peer at all the white people. It was very unnerving. I have been a visible minority in the past, but we all shared the same feeling of being zoo animals for villagers to look at with no filter in their interest.

We saw a bee the size of a small hummingbird that was completely black and so fast we couldn’t get a picture of it. We also immediately we put to work helping break rocks to make cement so we could secure the playground equipment into the ground. Literally breaking large 10lb rocks with a sledgehammer into small gravel sized pieces to mix with the sand. I was relieved of my sledgehammer for some unknown reason and I wasn’t allowed to dig the holes. Cultural or sexual reasons, I don’t know….but Lee was worked into a later in the hot sun until he too was relieved of his tools.

Sensing quickly our assistance was not required, we went to speak with the girls near the swings who were watching. One girl was getting her hair braided, so I asked if I could do it for her also. Another girl quickly offered her hair, and so while I was braiding her hair, suddenly mine was also getting braided too. Far more quickly, and with much more expertise, as no sooner had I finished three corn rows in my client, my whole head was done, and I was relieved of my job there too. Apparently braiding hair in corn rows was not to be added to my African resume with any sense of expertise. Near the end of this, the man we lovingly named “The Henchman” who had been supervising the playground and the cement making, he grabbed his stick with a leaf switch at the end and started whipping the girls and shrieking at them. I was quite taken aback, as though we had done something wrong and why were these girls getting beaten with a stick?!?! The girls scattered save a few who were helping with hair. When I was finished, I took out my hand sanitizer to clean myself, and I was swarmed with kids who all also wanted some. The bottle was quickly empty. It was apparent their lack of things makes them grab out at every little possible thing that they can get their hands on, even if they don’t need it, or want it, or already had their turn.

We would come later to appreciate The Henchman’s techniques, and in fact employ some of them ourselves…..

As Kari, Alynne and I were not allowed to do the manual labour part, and the hair was braided, we decided to bring out some nail polishes and do the nails of all who wanted a mini-mani.

Enter nail polish gate here….

What started out as a nice gesture quickly turned into a swarming event where the three of us were descended upon like a herd of locusts. Fingers grabbing, nail polish flying, hands beating on the table…the three of us were quickly overwhelmed. Alynne’s eyes were bugging out as far as their sockets would allow without losing the eyes completely, Kari started to tear up and I was shocked at the lack of manners. To date, all the other children at the centres we had gone to were very mild mannered and polite. This was something we were not accustomed to at all. We put the children on one side of the table and us on another. We tried having them have to sit on the chairs before they could get their turn, and we also tried sitting there waiting quietly until they were quiet. Nothing worked, and so we stopped doing it. The one who were initially polite asked for a base Color and “ Tok Tok Tok” which meant polka dots. We retreated from the hoarders and left to cloister ourselves in our room for a short reprieve and to gather ourselves.

After our lunch of jam and bread sandwiches and water, we started our dental and medical assessments and treatments. Nearly every child that came through had nits, lice or even fleas jumping off them. For the most part though they were very healthy, which was a nice surprise.

When we had finished the ones scheduled for the day, we got to wander down to their garden they had where beets, jalapeños, teff (their main grown grain they use to make injera (a form of bread, but with the consistency and taste of sour, spongy crepes), mais (their form of corn on the cob but nothing like what we eat) and kale. On the way there we passed a field where cows and/or horses and/or donkeys etc must have gone to die, for it was littered with bones everywhere. There we about six boys playing with either hoops and wires or tires and sticks. Very simple looking game, but harder than it looked to get the hang of, but quite fun once you did. We watched the boys have a race we organized, and then is whiteys had our own race…..it was good fun.

Speaking of bird sized bees, tonight I was writing this blog and a bug started trying to dive bomb us in the room. Where it came from I do not know, however had Lee and Alynne not been shrouded with their mosquito tent, they would surely have been killed….or at least maimed. I named it the African killer carpenter mosquito pillar. It was about two inches long and an inch wide, but it looked like a worm with armour and wings of titanium with enough determination that it wanted to eat one of us for snack. I was the only one awake, and thus the responsibility for saving my peeps fell on me. Armed with my Birkenstock I steeled myself for the possibility that I might not be coming back to Canada if I lost this fight.

I tracked it into the corner of the room with all the boxes stacked up, and there it hid, lurking, lying in wait for my approach. Bravely I jiggled the boxes to stimulate it’s exit from the corner and into my trap. I was so successful in getting it to come out, it flew straight at me and I threw my shoe shrieking obscenities at it. Sadly I missed, and now I was down a shoe. It turned to make another pass at me and I had to act quickly. Rushing at it, the beast was caught off guard and face planted into the tool kit. Quickly I grabbed my other shoe and as I leaned over the tools, I could see it was dazed and my chance to strike was within my grasp. However, when I pressed my shoe onto what I thought would be a quick and easy kill, I was surprised by the strength of the armour this creature had; there were more than a dozen crunchy strikes I had to make that includes breaking it into chunks before it passed to the other side. I thought perhaps it was going to the light and crossing over, but then it realized the light was coming from my headlamp I was wearing to write by and not some insect heaven.

Exhausted I thought perhaps I should take my oils and retire for the night, so I open the lid box and dumped the pills in without looking. Immediately I started to shriek as I would have bet a pay check that I had another one of these beats in my mouth because when I closed my teeth and tongue around the pills, a sharp metal-like poking happened in my mouth. My mouth flew open wide and I spat all the contents of my mouth into my waiting palm convinced I had another to the death fight on my hands. I had to laugh when I discovered it wasn’t in fact an African killer carpenter mosquito pillar, but just a foil wrapped sleeping pill I had brought just in case I needed it. Phew.

I fell asleep to the sounds of the jungle shortly thereafter. Seriously. The crickets were supersized as were their songs. Add to that, later the songs of the hyenas began and I was extra grateful for the fence. We plan to ask tomorrow if we can go on a hyena hunt…let you know how that goes!

Sleep well!

« Previous Page
Next Page »

Categories

  • Africa
  • Keto!
  • Musings
  • Short Stories
  • Travel Adventures
  • Uncategorized

Recent Posts

  • Finding the opportunities
  • Being on Santa’s bad list. – India #8
  • Lookout Texas! Here we come…
  • The Prix and P!NK
  • Innocuous conversations

SUBSCRIBE TO OUR BLOG!

Name

Email


Copyright © 2025 · Contemplating My Navel