Srange Habits of Displaced People (or) Why am I sitting in the dark?
Whooff! It's been a while since I did this.
I'm writing this blog post in the pitch black of a library on the grounds of the New Delhi residence where I have been installed. Apparently my use of this internet port is somehow a dubious allowance but as I live here and have done for a week and shall do for a further two weeks I take no guilt from this act. Plus, the key board is old and sticky and constantly flicks on the "insert" function deleting every third sentence I type...they don’t feed us here either. I really feel I'm getting a true taste of the average Indian lifestyle. Forced to subsist solely on restaurant fare. Doomed every morning to take a brisk walk through the garden boulevards to the local coffee shop and bill my double cappuccino and pastry the production if I want to have anything resembling breakfast...but at least now I understand what they mean when they say food tastes better when you really work for it.
what...not sarcastic enough? Okay, well that’s not so bad…but, it has not all been wine and nice things.
FOR INSTANCE
On the truthful side of my trials here I feel I would be remiss if I did not at least touch on the matter of food related ailments* that can effect even the most pampered traveler. Jumping right passed all the details of my or any unfortunate person's experiences with conflicts between the digester and the digested let me just say that without any life threatening elements being involved such ailments can quite rapidly affect the patients sanity. As an illustrative comparison I submit to you the opening sequence of Francis Ford Coppola’s Apocalypse Now and also Renton’s withdrawal sequence in those two Scottish guy’s movie Trainspotting**. In the former you will recall the unfortunate and emotionally scarred Captain Willard played by the then unfortunate and emotionally scarred Martin Sheen method acting his way through a bottle or two of JD while getting ever more upset and stir crazy in his private Saigon hotel room. Many of the features of this scene are quite familiar to one who has experienced a full blown case of what I call The Tikka Massalla(sp?) Trots. Ultimately this is not a terminal ailment if one is furnished with a sound mind, fresh water and a private room with an on suite loo. But, of these three essential survival tools the first is the most important. If one does not possess the mental fortitude to step into the edge of one’s own raged sanity and return, be warned. Like heroin addiction*** overcoming this most heinous of non-lethal ordeals requires quick reflexes, patients, and a staggering degree of physical and mental will power.
Specifically symptoms beyond the obvious unmentionables include:
A rather astounding loss of fluids and body mass
Sustained physical weakness
Increased physical self awareness (often to the point of questionable sanity)
Temporary loss of all recognizable personality traits. Often replaced by those of a manic rodent.
A calming but dangerously deep delirium.
Hallucinations. (images and sounds may vary…I saw a huge version of Lyle Lovett and a purple frog)
Mental delusions that what you are experiencing is like any number of cinematic montages depicting insanity, or in more extreme cases, that you are actually in a cinematic montage depicting insanity.
In its worst cases the ailment should run its course in a week with the interesting bedridden heroin addict routine taking two days and nights at most.
Right, well that’s that.
In other non-poop related news, It’s my birthday today so my profile is now wrong about my age, but I thought I’d write this instead of changing it. Also, I’ll be home and cleansed of parasites in two weeks time if all goes as planned.
I know I did not really do the title of this blog justice with the content, but…there is always next time.
Um…
By the beard of Zeus!
Chris
PS
Who invented the insert function…was it Bill Gates, cause he’s here right now. He might never leave.
And now, a selection of startlingly lame footnotes:
*Yes yes, I’m talking about what you think I’m talking about
**I know Irvine Welsh wrote it and yes I could look the filmmakers up on IMDB, and I know it’s shameful that I can’t remember them, but really, honestly, do we care who they are?
***Cause I know all about that!
I'm writing this blog post in the pitch black of a library on the grounds of the New Delhi residence where I have been installed. Apparently my use of this internet port is somehow a dubious allowance but as I live here and have done for a week and shall do for a further two weeks I take no guilt from this act. Plus, the key board is old and sticky and constantly flicks on the "insert" function deleting every third sentence I type...they don’t feed us here either. I really feel I'm getting a true taste of the average Indian lifestyle. Forced to subsist solely on restaurant fare. Doomed every morning to take a brisk walk through the garden boulevards to the local coffee shop and bill my double cappuccino and pastry the production if I want to have anything resembling breakfast...but at least now I understand what they mean when they say food tastes better when you really work for it.
what...not sarcastic enough? Okay, well that’s not so bad…but, it has not all been wine and nice things.
FOR INSTANCE
On the truthful side of my trials here I feel I would be remiss if I did not at least touch on the matter of food related ailments* that can effect even the most pampered traveler. Jumping right passed all the details of my or any unfortunate person's experiences with conflicts between the digester and the digested let me just say that without any life threatening elements being involved such ailments can quite rapidly affect the patients sanity. As an illustrative comparison I submit to you the opening sequence of Francis Ford Coppola’s Apocalypse Now and also Renton’s withdrawal sequence in those two Scottish guy’s movie Trainspotting**. In the former you will recall the unfortunate and emotionally scarred Captain Willard played by the then unfortunate and emotionally scarred Martin Sheen method acting his way through a bottle or two of JD while getting ever more upset and stir crazy in his private Saigon hotel room. Many of the features of this scene are quite familiar to one who has experienced a full blown case of what I call The Tikka Massalla(sp?) Trots. Ultimately this is not a terminal ailment if one is furnished with a sound mind, fresh water and a private room with an on suite loo. But, of these three essential survival tools the first is the most important. If one does not possess the mental fortitude to step into the edge of one’s own raged sanity and return, be warned. Like heroin addiction*** overcoming this most heinous of non-lethal ordeals requires quick reflexes, patients, and a staggering degree of physical and mental will power.
Specifically symptoms beyond the obvious unmentionables include:
A rather astounding loss of fluids and body mass
Sustained physical weakness
Increased physical self awareness (often to the point of questionable sanity)
Temporary loss of all recognizable personality traits. Often replaced by those of a manic rodent.
A calming but dangerously deep delirium.
Hallucinations. (images and sounds may vary…I saw a huge version of Lyle Lovett and a purple frog)
Mental delusions that what you are experiencing is like any number of cinematic montages depicting insanity, or in more extreme cases, that you are actually in a cinematic montage depicting insanity.
In its worst cases the ailment should run its course in a week with the interesting bedridden heroin addict routine taking two days and nights at most.
Right, well that’s that.
In other non-poop related news, It’s my birthday today so my profile is now wrong about my age, but I thought I’d write this instead of changing it. Also, I’ll be home and cleansed of parasites in two weeks time if all goes as planned.
I know I did not really do the title of this blog justice with the content, but…there is always next time.
Um…
By the beard of Zeus!
Chris
PS
Who invented the insert function…was it Bill Gates, cause he’s here right now. He might never leave.
And now, a selection of startlingly lame footnotes:
*Yes yes, I’m talking about what you think I’m talking about
**I know Irvine Welsh wrote it and yes I could look the filmmakers up on IMDB, and I know it’s shameful that I can’t remember them, but really, honestly, do we care who they are?
***Cause I know all about that!
posted by Chris and Nilu at 8:53 AM
<< Home