Slap on a little Neosporin, you'll be fine.

Singapore Experience of the Day

My plan for my lunch break was this:  Bike 5km to Bukit Timah Nature Reserve to buy a new Nalgene bottle, bike home while stopping for Thai food along the way.  Easy peasy, right?

The first bad decision of the day was to bike on the sidewalk against traffic.  (No, biking on the sidewalk is not illegal here, I'd even say it's downright advisable because of the aggressive drivers.)  Because of this, I was forced off the sidewalk and into oncoming traffic not only once, but twice.  The first was because an older Chinese lady refused to move even six inches out of the way to let me pass.  I could see her annoyed glare from 50 feet away, so I was at least ready for it.  I wanted to tell her, "Don't get mad at me, lady, it's not my fault this country has no bike paths!", but of course I did nothing and instead apologized to her.  I swear if you could bottle the power of the Old Chinese Lady Stare you could fuel the world.  Or solve world hunger, all you would have to do is have them stand over anyone with a full plate of food and they would be so intimidated they'd hand deliver their meal to whatever hungry country was closest.  No wonder all the kids here are so well behaved.  The second time was because there was a motorcycle coming straight at me (did I mention that I was on the sidewalk?) and I  thought I'd better give that guy the right of way.

The second bad decision of the day was not carrying cash.  I keep $5 in change and a credit card in my backpack, but this was no match for the older gentleman at the register who could not figure out how to work the credit card machine.  *Sigh*  Back on my bike, carrying it up and down the overpass stairs to the mall a few blocks away to find an ATM.  But no bike racks.  I wasn't about to leave my bike unattended so before giving up and heading home, I tried the smaller mall next door.  Score, an outdoor ATM!  Cash in hand, I headed back to the park (carrying my bike up and down the overpass again) to buy my Nalgene.  The cashier was surprised to see me, he gave me a 10% discount for my trouble.  Sweating profusely in the heat and ready to leave, we were interrupted in our third attempt at a transaction (I have no idea what happened to the second, for some mysterious reason he had to cancel the whole thing and hand me my $20 back) by the following conversation by a woman behind me holding a few items:

Lady:  "Is all this okay?  I'll pay when I return.  Two hours."
Cashier:  "Okay, no problem."

Lady, stopping by the shoe rack at the exit:  "I need shoes!  What size have?"

Cashier:  "Thirty-eight, thirty nine and forty two."

Lady, grabbing a random pair:  "Here, find my size."

Cashier:  "Sorry?"

Lady:  "Is this my size?"

Cashier:  "What size shoe you wear?"

Lady:  "I don't know.  Find my size"

Cashier, giving a blank stare.  I laugh.  She glares at me.

Lady:  "Find my size so I can get them when I get back."

Cashier, shrugging:  "Okay."

Slightly cheered by this random conversation and knowing that I'm not the only one intimidated by the Chinese ladies, I hop on my bike and head to the Thai place to get my take-out.  Loading up my back pack with Pad Thai and spring rolls, I head to the safety of the side streets.  And within one minute crash my bike on the sidewalk after I catch my front tire on the side of a curb.  Farging clipless pedals!  Elbow and knee scraped but otherwise unharmed, I get up and assure the gathered, staring, Indian workers that I'm fine, and get back on my bike.  And promptly clothesline myself on a tree branch, falling again.  Assuring the people again that I am fine, I turn away from the crowd and burst into tears behind my sunglasses.  Bleeding and smelling of Thai food, I walk the few blocks home.  And then realized I forgot my Nalgene bottle on the counter at the store.

This time, I took a cab to go get it back.

And a quick two weeks later...

Here's the rug!

Haitus

I'll be on "vacation" (working back in the states) until April 19th - be back soon after with a picture of the rug!

India, Day 7: "Because clearly, if there's one thing we don't appear to be, it's tourists..."

India, Day 7.  The last day.

What should you do when you've just lost a really nice hand-knotted rug from India?  Go rug shopping again, of course!  Our trip leader, Kay, knew a few people in the rug business, and a couple of us went over to his showroom to take a look at what he had.  No, I didn't buy another one, I was still holding out hope that my first rug would magically re-appear.  But looking is free, right?

In case you're curious, these rugs are hand-knotted pure silk and cost about $6000, with the same kind of rug in the US costing at least $20,000.  One of the ladies in our group bought three.  (Apparently she just found out that she was moving from Singapore to New Jersey and her consolation was decorating the new place any way she wanted.  The rugs were definitely a good start.)

Here are some workers machining a huge contemporary wool rug, it was being sold to a palace, I think.  Or a hotel.  Or a palace that got turned into a hotel.  Once of the two.

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From rug shopping to the Gandhi Museum in Dehli.  This is the place where Gandhi was gunned down by a religious fanatic in 1948.  Was he really assassinated that long ago?  His words are so timeless...

This is the room where he spent the last 144 days of his life.  Inside is a cot and a chair.  That's it.

On the day he was shot, Gandhi went to the Prayer Meeting through this path.

"I will give you a talisman.  Whenever you are in doubt or the self becomes too much with you apply the following test:  

Recall the face of the poorest and the weakest man whom you may have seen and ask yourself if the step you contemplate is going to be of any use to him.  Will he gain anything by it?  Will it restore him to a control over his own life and destiny?  In other words, will it lead to Swaraj for the hungry and starving millions?

Then you will find your doubts and yourself melting away."

- M.K. Gandhi

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We hit the shopping markets once more before heading out to dinner.  While waiting for some of the others to load up on pashminas and hand-made shoes, Vikram called me over.  "I have called the hotel in Dehli, I have called the guide from the other group, who had gone to Agra, I have called their hotel in Agra and spoken to the manager there, and... I can tell you we have found your rug."  I couldn't believe it, I really thought it was gone.  I promptly burst into tears and hugged Vikram.  Turns out that the rug had been loaded onto the wrong bus and sat there unclaimed in Agra.  It would be sent on a train back to Dehli and I would have my rug by the time we left for the airport at 6:00am.  Sweet relief.

 My planned conversation with David would now have to change from "I'm sorry, but..." to "You have no idea what I went through with this rug and you'd better love it."  I practically danced my way back to the bus, and not even an hour long monster traffic jam could ruin my good mood.  Vikram was getting a great tip from me.

Last on the agenda was a nice dinner and drinks at our hotel.  (The previous plan of going out to a famous local restaurant nixed because we were way too tired, and the place sounded "too touristy".)  Indian food all around!

And thus ends the India Trip of 2010.  I know it won't take me another 12 years to go back, this is the kind of place that gets in your blood.  Until next time, Namaste!

P.S.  I took my rug (that had now seen more of India than I had) as carry on luggage on the plane, I knew I wouldn't be able to relax if I left it out of my sight again.  And when I got it home, David really did love it.  : )