India: Tiny chess sets, a surprise phone call, and a social whoopsie

Let me introduce you to my HELP teammates. My county director, K., is a highly capable lady who will be marrying an American diplomat in September. T. and his wife M. are the young married couple who are in charge of keeping us single scallywags in check. That leaves five other young ladies not including myself: Ki., Ma., C., G., and Ka. If any young men are reading this, you should go on humanitarian trips abroad. Or maybe it's a good thing you didn't, because HELP has a "no dating" policy. (This rule is so handy. One of the young men here told Ki. he wanted to marry her and she had a good way to end it right then and there).

Last Friday, the ladies went on a weekend trip to Chennai. It was fun to hang out with T. and M. On Saturday we were able to spend two hours at the Salarjung Museum I've wanted to see so badly. It houses the 40,000+ object collection of Salarjung III, prime minister of Hyderabad between 1899 and 1949. Out of the 35 rooms, we dashed through 17. I very much want to go back and see the rest. Some of my favorites: two tiny chess sets with pieces less than 1 cm tall and 2 mm wide; a sandlewood carving of two Hindu gods on a swing. The flute one was playing was thinner than a toothpick and slender, and the toenails were tiny. The tree canopy was multi-layered.; 3 inch diameter ivory balls that had been carved so that there were more than three balls inside each other; a modern painting of a calf nursing. The cow's face was frontal, and her eyes big and wide like a Jersey cow. The calf was tinted blue and you could almost see it's tail wagging. (Dad, I couldn't tell if it was a bull or heifer). :P


And a statue I had never heard of but which ought to be in every AP art history textbook: Veiled Rebecca. The artist made the marble veils so thin and silky they seemed to fall like water.

I also enjoyed his toy collection. Imagine rows upon rows, hundreds upon hundreds, of miniature war toys. Infantry, cavalry, 10 horse teams pulling war cannons, long and narrow tanks shaped like '40s cars, a hospital tent with nurses, wounded soldiers (only about 20 men compared to the vast armies), Scottish men in kilts, British soldiers, Arabs, camels, a few planes, and a two foot Gandhi statue in the corner of the room.

I'll let you mull over that.

Saturday night I was able to talk with my family for an hour. It was wonderful. :)

Sunday evening I called my Grandpa and Grandma. It was the most perfectly timed and most precious phone call I've ever had. Grandpa's voice was gruff as he answered the phone. "Hello?" "Hi Grandpa! :) This is __. Happy Father's Day!" "What?! All the way from India?! Good Heck!"

:) :) :)

Afterwards we went to a pre-wedding feast celebration. We shook hands with the to-be groom as he sat in a flower-bedecked car with his to-be bride (though I couldn't see her at the time). A small band played the same rackety music that we had woken up to days prior, only it didn't sound as awful. The musicians wore bright orange shirts and flat-topped hats. They were playing music and had formed a circle with guests, a dancing circle. Indians, normal ones who don't dance like the crazy shake-yourself-to-pieces music videos, seem to enjoy dancing mostly by holding their arms in the air and hop-stepping around, or by holding hands and cha-cha-ing. Some of the young men who nearly idolize T. pushed him into the dancing circle. It was pretty funny. :)

Then we went to the inside of a large community center hall thing. It looked like some men in white cloth were setting up a ceremony. Some families from the church congregation (ward) we attend here led us downstairs to where dinner was being served. It is not considered rude for guests to go ahead and eat because the Happy Couple stands in a reception line to receive congratulations (More on this later).

They gave me a plate that had at least a 12 inch diameter, and filled it. Filled it completely. I've got to learn how to do the "No thank you" gesture because when I smiled and said, "That's fine" the server gave me more.

I ate it. I ate the whole blooming thing. This would not be something particularly good to be pleased about except for this: I ate it /all/ using my right hand only.

The left hand is considered dirty because it is the hand used to clean up after one uses a squatter toilet and hose. The right hand is used to eat, and I chose not to use the silver spoons provided for less adventuresome, aka "tidy", people (which does include some Indians).

The food was delicious, but eating It took forever. T. had finished his first plate and was nearly finished with his second platter when I finished mine. The man next to T. leaned over and told him, "That girl is struggling, but she is not giving up." No, I did not. :)

For the second time I've been here, I felt exactly like the cartoon character who is red with anger, the top of his head pops upon like a spout and steam rushes out. I didn't feel anger, but it was my reaction after eating the spiciest food of my life (I ate a whole chili pepper the first time while in a restaurant. Not intentional.). I felt dizzy, and like someone had lit a firework in my head. I thought I was going to pass out. After about two minutes I felt better, but still shaky.

I wonder if the reason is because I'm not drinking enough water. T. was sweating buckets, and maybe my body reacted because it didn't have an outlet for the heat. Hmm.

We went upstairs to congratulate the couple, and I made my first Big(er) Social Whoopsie. They took our picture with the couple, and after, I extended my hand to shake the bride-to-be's hand. She very reluctanly shook it, and that's when I had the "Dang" realization.

I'm almost glad it happened. For a brief moment, I was able to see the intricate mauve lines painted all over her arm and hand. Beautiful.

PS DK India travel guide says Andhra Pradesh food (the state I'm in now) serves the spiciest food in the country. I believe this to be true. At least it tastes good, too. ;)