Bringing the leg meat.

There are five main reasons you cannot run outside in India.

1.  It's hot like whoa.
2.  The presence of sidewalks on most roads is inconsistent at best.
3.  The presence of a slew of farm/zoo animals, including, but not limited to, cows, goats, donkeys, boar, and monkeys on most roads is guaranteed.
4.  Indian mosquitoes transmit about as many diseases as Vegas hookers. 
5.  Indians stare like they are getting paid not to blink.

I have to run, because if I don't, I get chubby and I can't sleep, but I have been relegated to the treadmill in the gym in our apartment complex, where the manager plays Indian hip hop music on a volume that can be equated with tornado warning systems in Kansas. 

 The monsoon season here is finally in full swing, which means the weather is much more temperate than when we arrived.  In India, temperate means a heat index of 100 and 70% humidity, but I'll take what I can get.

So today I did it.  I ran outside.  I was confined to the one mile loop around our apartment complex, to avoid Reasons #2 and #3, and I sprayed enough Deep Woods Off on my clothes to kill a baby from about 2 yards away, but I was outside.  And running.  I loved it.

It was impossible to avoid Reason #5.  The cooler weather drew lots of people outside, and they all stared as I jogged past.  My green running shorts didn't help, but I can't run in pants.  It's too much.

And here's the thing about Indian culture: Women can show their mid sections whether they have the abs of a lesbian gym owner or the stomach of a 40 year old mother of four, but show those thighs and calves and you're a whore.  Oh, and Indians don't run unless they are being chased.

So there I was, in all my glory, flaunting my leg meat, blasting Rihanna's "Only Girl (In the World)."  And I felt like the only girl in the world.  Jaws dropped.  Heads turned.  Mothers shielded the faces of their children.

I didn't care.  Well, I did a little, but I pretended not to.

But the worst part happened after I ran.

The lobby, hallways, and elevators in our apartment building aren't air-conditioned, so after a 30 minute run in Hades, I was pretty hot.  My shirt was soaked through and my face was dripping wet.

Let me preface my forthcoming confession with a note: I have never seen my neighbors inside my apartment building, except for in the lobby.  In the entire time I've lived here, the elevator goes straight from the lobby to the 7th floor without stopping, and I've never seen anyone in the hallway outside my apartment.

So the confession: Once I got inside the elevator, I took my shirt off.  Standing around in a sports bra is an India is a huge no-no, but it was sooooo hot.  Now, my cared-for-by-carbs midsection is nothing to look at, and it was bad enough that I was bringing the leg meat, but now my shoulders were on display. In India, shoulders are the epitome of sexiness.

On the fourth floor, the elevator stopped.

I froze.  In slow motion, the doors opened to reveal four Indian men.  As the doors slowly slid back, they looked at me in ever growing horror/delight.  It was like the elevator was a magical peep show portal they didn't even have to pay to open. I don't think they even looked at my legs.  For a moment, my shoulders were the center of the universe.

I've never felt so trashy.

I had to make this end, so, ever so coolly, I stepped forward, said "Hey guys," like an idiotic American, and pressed the "door close" button.

Real cool, Katrina.  Real cool.


* I must credit Tina Fey with the phrases "leg meat" and "abs of a lesbian gym owner." She's too funny.  Read Bossypants!

First Impressions

I made it to Delhi.  I know it sounds ridiculous, but there was a part of me, a very large part, that believed that maybe I wouldn't.  But I did.  In a business class seat, which stands as proof, to me, that God is real.

Notes on my first impressions:
1. Jet lag is real.  This ain't a game.  Yesterday Bob woke me up at 6 pm (8:30 am Eastern time) and I burst into tears. Then I refused to eat, because I was so tired I thought I was going to throw up.

2. India is hot.  This ain't a game.  Yesterday it was 106 degrees, and in the early afternoon Bob took me out to show me the places he shops.  When we got back I was more sweaty than Sylvester Stallone in Rocky III.  Bob also mentioned, casually, that yesterday was the hottest day of the year, and that most Indians don't go outside before evening unless they have to.  I was not nice to him when he said that.

3. Indian people are nice, kind of.  Everyone smiles at you.  I read in a travel guide not to smile at people, especially men, and I was very determined to heed this advice before I arrived.  And then I got here and people flashed me their perfectly white teeth left and right.  So I smiled back, feeling guilty the whole time.  That travel book seemed so serious.  There were other times people weren't so nice though.  When I arrived at the airport, I spent an hour pushing my six bags around on a cart and searching for Bob.  When I tried to navigate around a group of men standing at a coffee kiosk, my cart tipped over and all the bags fell on the ground.  Instead of rushing over to help me, the men just watched me struggle to rearrange my luggage on the cart.   I wanted to give them an extended lecture on the virtues of hospitality, but I was too sleepy.  See note #1.

4. There are three housekeepers that come to our apartment everyday and clean EVERYTHING. I hate the idea of it, but I love the result.  I mean, who wouldn't like for someone to make their bed every day and wash the dishes?

5. The clothes people wear here make Western clothes look stupid. I'm gonna need a sari asap.  There is one exception to the magnificence of their attire.  Every woman had on a dupatta, those multipurpose scarves you've probably seen before.  When we got home, I asked Bob, "Why were all those women wearing scarves?  It's too f-ing for all that."  Actually, I said something more profane than that, but I'll spare you.

6. India is beautiful.  It is a place of extremes, which I read in several places but didn't really understand until I arrived.  On the way from the airport to our apartment, a beggar came to our car at a stoplight.  She tapped on the window determinedly but gently, and raised her other hand to her mouth like a child asking for food.  She was old, visibly poor, and beautiful.  Behind her, the sun glinted off the silver hood of a BMW.  Our driver sternly told us to ignore her.  On our drive, cows rested in the shade, men walked alongside carts drawn by horses, and the loud and obnoxious bursts of motor bike engines startled me over and over again.  I noticed high rise apartment buildings and skyscrapers emerging from the dust of buildings crumbling from age and lack of care.  Our apartment is nicer than our house in Kentucky, but there are homeless children living yards from the gate surrounding our compound.  Of all things, I think this will take the most getting used to.

Fifteen million people live in Delhi, and now Bob Lanham and I do too.  I am so very, very excited to be here.

First day/night

It is currently 4am india standard time and I am wide awake and have been for about an hour. I'm counting down the minutes until the breakfast buffet at the optus premeir hotel in delhi opens up.
 Some highlights of my first day (which would have been yesterday).... and not in any order....

1. The food is great so far! I had a masala peneer dish in the hotel with some awesome garlic nan. It was incredible. Although my stomach is feeling a little funny... Could be the spices... could be a parasite... j/k, but seriously.
2. Cricket... don't understand it, but indian's seem to love it. I was at the hotel bar watching the semi finals of the world cup cricket match.... Pakistan vs. India... I know, riveting, haha. It was fun though. One of the waiters was giving me a play by play of how the game is played and the rules and so on. I still felt very out of place thought. When everyone would start celebrating during a part of the match, I would look up excitedly not knowing what to look for, giving an awkward smile to the waiters as if to say, 'that was a great play!'.
3. The head bobble thing is true, but I feel like it's more of a head sway...
4. The driving is crazy. At one point while I was being taken to the hotel I noticed there were no lines in the road.... 8 lanes of disorganized traffic emerged... Also, honking is a form of communication on the roads. One for, 'hey it's me, i'm here, just so you know...', 2 for 'get out of my way right now'.

Everything is going great so far. The only bad thing that has happened is my shampoo and conditioner busted in one of my bags. Since my bag was searched in customs I'm convinced someone wanted to try it out and then forgot to screw the lid on all the way.

It is now 6:00 am. I shall now retire to watching grownups on streaming netflix as I wait for McDonalds to open up.

B