I had the most delicious cup of coffee I have had since my college years! And it was served in the most unlikely of places... the dentist's office!!! After dropping Sofia off at her school, I went into the city for my 11:00 am appointment with my favorite dentist I've had thus far in my life, Dr. Sanghmitra. She's a very pleasant Indian woman with a short haircut and keen fashion sense (today she was wearing skinny jeans and black backless heels!). Most of her patients are foreigners... Americans, Brits, Aussies, and some Europeans as well. I have yet to bump into an Indian patient of hers but I think she does have some. She has a multi specialty dental office, which I am all too thankful for!!! Back in Chicago I would have to visit 2 or 3 different dentists depending on what I needed to get done.. this woman does it ALL!!! And she's really good at what she does.
Anyways, when I was in the States I delayed going to the dentist because I knew I had a lot of different work that needed to be done on my teeth, and if you are at all familiar with the American dental health care system, you will understand immediately my looooooong delay in visiting the dentist. So, now that I am in India... one of the perks of course is the excellent dental care for a fraction of what it would cost me in the States (and that's WITH insurance!). Since I've been here I've already had all 5 of my cavity fillings filled and replaced, a crown FINALLY capped on one of my teeth, and I have scheduled an appointment this Saturday to extract my wisdom teeth. All of this done by ONE good dentist! Hallelujah!!! AND!!! I made the appointment for this Saturday.... get this.... TODAY! hahahahaha :) Can you just feel my enthusiasm?!
I asked my dentist why it is that I have cavities in almost all my teeth... I mean I brush my teeth and, although I don't do it as much as I probably should, I floss too. She told me that she could tell from some chipping on my front teeth that I'm what they call a "night grinder". And no, this doesn't refer to any kind of promiscuous dancing at a night club. I grind my teeth at night while I'm sleeping! I could only half believe it. When I was younger I could hear my brother grinding his teeth as he slept in 'till late morning... the sound can only be described as a kind of bone crushing, scratch your nails on a chalkboard kind of sound. It was horrifying, and I was sure he was breaking all his teeth. I never thought that I could be doing the same thing in MY sleep! Geez!
So, in my dentist's all-knowing wisdom, she made a teeth guard for me so when I sleep even if I tried to grind... I couldn't. Can I hear another "amen"?! By the time I get back to the States, or wherever we end up, I will only be needing to see a dentist for a once in a while check-up and cleaning... (sigh of relief!) Although honestly I will be sad to leave Dr. Sanghmitra... I've grown some attachment to her, especially since she served me a heavenly cup of coffee at today's visit (made with hot milk and sugar with a sprinkle of cocoa on top!) as I waited for her to finish making my teeth guard.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Sidewalks 101 - Part II
I saw a man ready to strangle another this morning. I had just dropped off Sofia at her school when I heard the escalating shouts. I couldn't understand what the older man was saying to the motorcyclist, who had apparently been caught by surprise, but I just knew what he was saying. "What do you think you're doing you moron!!! You almost ran me over!! Drive on the road like everyone else instead of the sidewalk!!! You could've gotten me killed!!!"
It's the same thing I secretly think to myself every time a motorcyclist jumps the curb. And although I was kind of happy to know that it wasn't just me, my foreign and American self, thinking these things... I couldn't help but feel a teeny bit sorry for the guy who was probably having a million different Hindi insults hurled at him. It was oddly silent around this guy shouting amidst the overly crowded morning traffic because everyone was really curious to know what all the drama was about. And the motorcyclist couldn't say much... he didn't yell back... he couldn't because he knew he had gotten caught and also because the guy yelling at him was obviously much older than him, and here in India, there is a deep reverence and respect for their elders. When the traffic started moving again, that motorcyclist, whom the elder man most likely nicknamed "moron", was finally free to escape the frantic shouts.
It's the same thing I secretly think to myself every time a motorcyclist jumps the curb. And although I was kind of happy to know that it wasn't just me, my foreign and American self, thinking these things... I couldn't help but feel a teeny bit sorry for the guy who was probably having a million different Hindi insults hurled at him. It was oddly silent around this guy shouting amidst the overly crowded morning traffic because everyone was really curious to know what all the drama was about. And the motorcyclist couldn't say much... he didn't yell back... he couldn't because he knew he had gotten caught and also because the guy yelling at him was obviously much older than him, and here in India, there is a deep reverence and respect for their elders. When the traffic started moving again, that motorcyclist, whom the elder man most likely nicknamed "moron", was finally free to escape the frantic shouts.
Friday, April 11, 2008
Sidewalks 101
I thought sidewalks were for pedestrians. Well, apparently the locals didn't learn that bit in driving school because I find myself right in middle of traffic on the SIDEWALK! Dodging motorcycles trying to cheat the
stopped traffic by jumping the curb and taking their chances with the all too relaxed and, for the most part absent, traffic police. I wouldn't mind so much if for one, I didn't have to rely on walking as my mode of transport; two, it was only one or two idiots once in a while; and three, I didn't have to keep my eyes looking down in order to prevent myself from tripping on the uneven and stony path they call a "sidewalk". Now I am faced with the task of keeping one eye on the floor and the other eye on the bully motorcyclists in front of me practically aiming to pummel me down. Funny thing about nature... it has forced both human eyes to travel in the same direction. Woe is me. So it seems I am destined for a broken and bruised face OR a broken and definitely bruised body. Hmm.... tough one. For now, I will settle for quietly cursing the traffic and not so quietly cursing the block of stone I have just tripped over and has given my toe a nice aching pain to remember it by.
stopped traffic by jumping the curb and taking their chances with the all too relaxed and, for the most part absent, traffic police. I wouldn't mind so much if for one, I didn't have to rely on walking as my mode of transport; two, it was only one or two idiots once in a while; and three, I didn't have to keep my eyes looking down in order to prevent myself from tripping on the uneven and stony path they call a "sidewalk". Now I am faced with the task of keeping one eye on the floor and the other eye on the bully motorcyclists in front of me practically aiming to pummel me down. Funny thing about nature... it has forced both human eyes to travel in the same direction. Woe is me. So it seems I am destined for a broken and bruised face OR a broken and definitely bruised body. Hmm.... tough one. For now, I will settle for quietly cursing the traffic and not so quietly cursing the block of stone I have just tripped over and has given my toe a nice aching pain to remember it by.
Monday, April 7, 2008
Angels
I read that a person's house may be inversely proportional to his happiness. It must be true because I have 
never seen more joyful children than the ones I visited at the appropriately named Angel's Orphanage in the heart and back allies of Bangalore.
I tagged along with a group of people from Gilberto's work one Sunday afternoon to visit this orphanage as part of a service project. I had been itching for some time since Sofia started school to occupy my newly found free time volunteering in some way. After a few unsuccessful attempts and several highly questionable "volunteering" organizations, I found out about this service opportunity at the orphanage. I have never actually visited one before and have for years secretly wished to run an orphanage of my own one day... (maybe it unconsciously had something to do with my love for the movie Little Orphan Annie.. who knows :)
We gathered all 9 or 10 of us, including Sofia, in front of the their office building to go together to the orphanage. I didn't know anyone in the group and suddenly found myself feeling that self-conscious, nervous, first-day-of-school feeling. I was also fighting my usual lazy and unadventurous side to keep going with the group despite Gilberto's last minute, work-related bail out. I'm so glad my courage prevailed because in the end it was such a moving and memorable experience.
We got there mid-afternoon and, when the children saw us coming they all gathered together in a room sitting crossed-legged on the floor in front of us. The room appeared to be their sleeping quarters with a handful of cots and neatly folded sheets and blankets on the shelves next to them. There were about 40 children ranging from age 2 to 20. The younger ones sat in the front as the older ones sat respectfully in the back, some even cradling the little ones in their arms.
I learned later that the boys at age 18 go off to college or start working and the girls remain in the orphanage until they are 20 when they are "married off". The lady in charge of the children told me with a proud smile that the girls at the orphanage are sought after for marriage because they're considered "homely" and have never been let to go wondering outside the orphanage. I couldn't help but be slightly disturbed by that and how happy she was about it. Anyway, who am I to judge.
We gathered together in that room. We sat on the chairs offered to us against the wall facing the bright-eyed children. We all settled pretty quickly and everyone became quiet with expectation as if we had come bearing some weighty and important news. After a couple of awkward silent minutes, the lady in charge of the children instructed them to sing a song for us. And they sang. They sang with their hearts. They sang with such angelic voices and in such harmony and unison that it was obvious that they'd probably learned and practiced singing that song since their first days at the orphanage. It was a song about God. I was too distracted by how they were singing it to listen to what they were singing, so I can't recall what the song was about, but I remember their faces. So full of hope and joy. I couldn't help but become teary-eyed, but I fought back those tears because I knew they had no place there.
We clapped proudly when they finished. Now it was our turn to offer them something, ... but no one said anything. I was itching, truly hoping for one of us to say something. But I think we were all so moved by them that we lost our own words. I found myself again inwardly fighting my shy, quiet self to break the silence. Suddenly I spoke, as everyone turns to look at me.. I asked the children if they had ever heard the song about the spider. A part of me was dreading that they would say yes, that they already knew the itsby bitsy spider song, and if that was all I had to offer. Thankfully none of them were familiar with the song and they watched me in respectful anticipation. I first explained to them the journey of the spider. How its wish was to reach the roof and in order to get there it had to climb the water spout. When the clouds gathered and it began to rain, the spider was knocked down and prevented from reaching the top. The spider's spirit however wasn't weathered and so it waited patiently. Soon enough the sun came out and dried up the rain, and the spider climbed back on its journey to the top. Secretly, or not so secretly, I wished that they would learn the moral of that short nursery rhyme and carry it with them. After teaching them the finger movements of the spider and the rest of the song, we sang together... and how they sang! I could see in their faces how much they were enjoying this new song. And it brought happiness to my spirit... such a pure and little thing.
We passed out some pencils and candy for them and soon the rigidness of the group opened up and the children began chatting amongst themselves and with us. We indulged them happily with taking their photos.. again and again. Some of the kids went outside to play games. The boys played cricket with the older guys and the girls taught us fun little chasing kind of games. One little girl even came up to Sofia, who had been a little reserved since we arrived there because she was quite tired, and asked politely if she could teach her a hand clapping rhyme. Sofia, curious and happy that the girl was being so gentle and kind with her, played with her without any protests. I took advantage of having brought my good camera and took pictures of the children and their unattached and generous smiles. Having so little, they were immensely capable of giving so much, just in the sincerity of their smiles.
never seen more joyful children than the ones I visited at the appropriately named Angel's Orphanage in the heart and back allies of Bangalore.I tagged along with a group of people from Gilberto's work one Sunday afternoon to visit this orphanage as part of a service project. I had been itching for some time since Sofia started school to occupy my newly found free time volunteering in some way. After a few unsuccessful attempts and several highly questionable "volunteering" organizations, I found out about this service opportunity at the orphanage. I have never actually visited one before and have for years secretly wished to run an orphanage of my own one day... (maybe it unconsciously had something to do with my love for the movie Little Orphan Annie.. who knows :)
We gathered all 9 or 10 of us, including Sofia, in front of the their office building to go together to the orphanage. I didn't know anyone in the group and suddenly found myself feeling that self-conscious, nervous, first-day-of-school feeling. I was also fighting my usual lazy and unadventurous side to keep going with the group despite Gilberto's last minute, work-related bail out. I'm so glad my courage prevailed because in the end it was such a moving and memorable experience.
We got there mid-afternoon and, when the children saw us coming they all gathered together in a room sitting crossed-legged on the floor in front of us. The room appeared to be their sleeping quarters with a handful of cots and neatly folded sheets and blankets on the shelves next to them. There were about 40 children ranging from age 2 to 20. The younger ones sat in the front as the older ones sat respectfully in the back, some even cradling the little ones in their arms.
I learned later that the boys at age 18 go off to college or start working and the girls remain in the orphanage until they are 20 when they are "married off". The lady in charge of the children told me with a proud smile that the girls at the orphanage are sought after for marriage because they're considered "homely" and have never been let to go wondering outside the orphanage. I couldn't help but be slightly disturbed by that and how happy she was about it. Anyway, who am I to judge.
We gathered together in that room. We sat on the chairs offered to us against the wall facing the bright-eyed children. We all settled pretty quickly and everyone became quiet with expectation as if we had come bearing some weighty and important news. After a couple of awkward silent minutes, the lady in charge of the children instructed them to sing a song for us. And they sang. They sang with their hearts. They sang with such angelic voices and in such harmony and unison that it was obvious that they'd probably learned and practiced singing that song since their first days at the orphanage. It was a song about God. I was too distracted by how they were singing it to listen to what they were singing, so I can't recall what the song was about, but I remember their faces. So full of hope and joy. I couldn't help but become teary-eyed, but I fought back those tears because I knew they had no place there.
We clapped proudly when they finished. Now it was our turn to offer them something, ... but no one said anything. I was itching, truly hoping for one of us to say something. But I think we were all so moved by them that we lost our own words. I found myself again inwardly fighting my shy, quiet self to break the silence. Suddenly I spoke, as everyone turns to look at me.. I asked the children if they had ever heard the song about the spider. A part of me was dreading that they would say yes, that they already knew the itsby bitsy spider song, and if that was all I had to offer. Thankfully none of them were familiar with the song and they watched me in respectful anticipation. I first explained to them the journey of the spider. How its wish was to reach the roof and in order to get there it had to climb the water spout. When the clouds gathered and it began to rain, the spider was knocked down and prevented from reaching the top. The spider's spirit however wasn't weathered and so it waited patiently. Soon enough the sun came out and dried up the rain, and the spider climbed back on its journey to the top. Secretly, or not so secretly, I wished that they would learn the moral of that short nursery rhyme and carry it with them. After teaching them the finger movements of the spider and the rest of the song, we sang together... and how they sang! I could see in their faces how much they were enjoying this new song. And it brought happiness to my spirit... such a pure and little thing.
We passed out some pencils and candy for them and soon the rigidness of the group opened up and the children began chatting amongst themselves and with us. We indulged them happily with taking their photos.. again and again. Some of the kids went outside to play games. The boys played cricket with the older guys and the girls taught us fun little chasing kind of games. One little girl even came up to Sofia, who had been a little reserved since we arrived there because she was quite tired, and asked politely if she could teach her a hand clapping rhyme. Sofia, curious and happy that the girl was being so gentle and kind with her, played with her without any protests. I took advantage of having brought my good camera and took pictures of the children and their unattached and generous smiles. Having so little, they were immensely capable of giving so much, just in the sincerity of their smiles.
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