2 more reasons to hate monkeys

1. A week or so ago, two opposing troops of monkeys staged an epic battle utilizing my terrace as their boxing ring. After hearing an unusal amount of squealing (a little bit is normal), I looked out my window to see six monkeys fighting to the death. The result of the war? A sleepless night (so much squealing!) and a new carpet on my terrace--a carpet of feces. Unclear if these feces were flung as ammunition, or if the monkeys just had to poop as the battle raged on for hours (at some point, you just can't hold it in anymore). And guess who has to clean up their mess? Ugh, damn monkeys, clean up your own filth! I am not your maid!

2. I finally got my water back today, after a week with no water. I had to buy bottled water for everything, including bathing (I would boil water so as not to freeze, then add some cold water so as not to burn) (by the way, boiling enough water for a shower takes quite a long time). Naturally, this resulted in, well, not bathing (2 boiled-bottled water "showers" in 1 week. I'm so sorry for my stench). So why did I have no water? One word: monkeys. Apparently the monkeys had messed with the pipes feeding water into my apartment. These pipes were broken and leaking, so no water reached my faucets. (And my landlord had been away in his village for the week and only returned late last night, so no one could call the plumber until today.) It's like the monkeys want my life to be as stinky as possible. First they precipitate shit on my terrace so it's covering it like a blanket of brown snow, and then they cut off my water supply so I can't properly bathe. Thanks a lot, monkey assholes.

...or should I say, monkey terrorists:

Translation: "MONKEY TERRORISTS." And an explanation about how you shouldn't feed them, because that will only encourage them to terrorize you and all you love even more so. (ok, I think the literal translation is actually "monkey terror," but a friend explained to me that "terrorist" is what the sign means.) This sign is posted in colonial Shimla but should probably be placed at intervals of every 5 feet all over the greater Shimla area.

The Most Awkward Office Party Ever. EVER.

Today was the last day of work for a coworker, Tarachand. I think he found another job somewhere else, so he's leaving after a year and a half here. To thank him for his service and contributions, our organization threw a farewell party for him.

I had assumed this would be like TERI parties. There would be food and drinks laid out on a desk or table, and we'd all stand around in small groups schmoozing. You know, like a normal office party.

I was wrong. So, so wrong.

Everyone walked into the conference room (which is where I work because it's the warmest room in this freezing building) and sat down around the table. And everyone was completely silent. They didn't talk to me or each other. Not even a hello or namaste. This is strange, I thought. It's like they're coming to an execution, not a farewell party. Then the director and his wife walked in, and everybody stood up. Well, this is oddly formal for a party. Is this a meeting now? Or are we paying respects to the executioners? The director gave some brief farewell speech that lasted no more than 20 seconds. Everyone continued to sit in silence. You could taste the tension. Finally Bhim, the office cook, brought down some chai and pakoras (check my glossary if you don't know what this is), which taste significantly better than tension.

But the tension did not disappear. After 6 minutes of complete silence--no, I'm not exaggerating, I checked my watch--the ridiculousness of the situation hit me (a party of endless awkward silence sitting around a conference table?! qlwkasjdoarslkcs!!) and it took every fiber of my being to control myself from bursting into a giggle fit. I took my tea cup, though it was now empty, up to my face in an attempt to hide my toothy about-to-laugh grin. I had trouble breathing, it was so difficult to control.

Shreshtha, who was sitting next to me, noticed my suffering and passed me the plate of pakoras, just so that I would have to move the cup away from my face. I glanced at him and shook my head, keeping the cup in front of my mouth. "Kuch lena [take some]," he whispered, his voice dripping in sweetness. Switching into English, he continued menacingly, "You know you want to." It was a cruel joke. If I put down the cup and reached for pakoras, I would lose all control and crack into obnoxious cackling! And that would be beyond embarrassing in this room of deathly silence! Luckily Harsh saved me and broke the silence by posing a question to Tarachand about his experience at our organization and what his next step in life would be. Once Tarachand started talking, the awkwardness decreased slightly and I could regain composure. Sort of.

As soon as the "party" ended (by the way, it lasted all of 15 painful, painful minutes) and everyone left, I finally let the laughter pour out of me. I'm fairly certain my coworkers in the next room heard my chortling.

This story was probably neither entertaining nor funny to you. BUT THE AWKWARDNESS WAS SO INCREDIBLE. A new feat of awkwardness has been achieved today, and I think we should all be proud of ourselves.

The Cheese Hunt

One of my favorite foods in the whole wide world (perhaps second only to Maggi) is cheese. Unfortunately for me, finding cheese in Shimla is no easy task. There is no glorious heaven filled with angels and rainbows and sunshine and fluffy-white-clouds-that-somehow-can-hold-the-weight-of-happily-dancing-people-despite-being-composed-of-suspended-water-droplets-and/or-ice-crystals like The Cheese Ball in Delhi.

One Sunday back in October I spent seven hours looking for cheese. I wish I was exaggerating, but my watch, which as far as I know never lies, told me my hunt lasted from 11am to 6pm. I scoured Sanjauli, Dhalli, Chhotta Shimla, New Shimla, regular Shimla. All the Shimlas. But I found nothing. Not a single slice of edible non-paneer cheese (I did find plenty of slices of processed cheese, but those have the consistency and taste of plastic--actually, they taste worse than plastic--and frankly don't count as edible). Luckily, however, one shopkeeper informed me of a small grocery store (probably the only grocery store in the entire Shimla area) that carries Western goods but is closed on Sundays. So I went on Monday and voila! cheese! :)

Today I schlepped all the way to regular Shimla to this grocery store solely to buy cheddar cheese. (It legit takes an hour to get there from my apartment.) To my dismay, they were completely sold out of cheddar cheese. Don't these people realize how much I struggled to get there? (If they don't realize, I'll tell them: 15-minute walk, followed by a 20-minute wait for a bus, followed by a 20-minute bus ride, followed by a 10-minute walk. See, that's more than an hour!) After I undertook such an arduous journey, how could they not provide me with life-sustaining cheddar cheese? However, my spirits were quickly lifted when I found what would be my long-lost treasure chest of Aztec gold had I been a pirate of the Caribbean: a shelf fully stocked with the new Maggi flavors. I proceeded to buy 8 packs of Tricky Tomato and 6 packs of Thrillin' Curry.

rejoicing in my bounty

Shame? I have none.

Also, I still want cheddar cheese.

New page: Glossary - check it out!

Check the Glossary tab above. If you read a term in a blog post and think "huh, what the heck does that mean?" then click on the glossary. I will keep adding words and phrases.

Also, I am painfully aware of my complete abandonment of the Photo(s) of the Day page. I will start regularly updating it again. But no, not daily, sorry. I have clearly proven myself totally incapable of that.

Oh yeah, and I need to update my post tags. Blah blah blah this blog needs a lot of work. I'm trying to get on it. Key word: trying.

UPDATE: I just added 2 pictures to Photo(s) of the Day, so you can officially start looking at that page again. Yay!

Me & Meri Maggi

I have my own Me & Meri Maggi story to share.

Wait, let's back up a sec. What is Maggi? Maggi is basically ramen (instant noodles) for the Indian tastebuds. The basic Maggi is "masala" flavored. Obviously, as a person who is super lazy and can't cook, I eat Maggi with greater frequency than I should. Maggi was an integral part of my diet in Delhi, and it still is in Shimla. Yeah, I'm that ramen-eating grad student, but without the grad school.

traditional Masala Maggi: my source of sustenance.

And what is a "Me & Meri Maggi" story? Basically Me & Meri Maggi is Maggi's 25th anniversary ad campaign. Maggi eaters send in their personal Maggi stories ("meri" = "my" in Hindi), and the best stories get "published" on the backs of packs, made into commercials, or featured on the Maggi website. It is best explained by this video:

Now for my Me & Meri Maggi story:

Recently (as in a few months ago), Maggi came out with new flavors. Somehow some of these new flavors managed to be better--significantly better, in my opinion--than the original Masala flavor. I didn't know such a feat was possible, but I can't get enough of Tricky Tomato or Thrillin' Curry.

new Maggi flavors. om nom nom.

Unfortunately, neither can the rest of Sanjauli. I can never find Tricky Tomato or Thrillin' Curry. The general shops (as they are called; basically, little convenience stores) (Sanjauli doesn't have grocery stores) carry only a limited supply of the new flavors, and they are almost always sold out. Except of the Romantic Capsica flavor. Because honestly, who really wants capsicum-flavored instant noodles? And who thinks of capsicum as "romantic"? That was a poor choice, Maggi.

More times than I'd like to admit I visited every single general shop in Sanjauli in search of Tricky Tomato or Thrillin' Curry. And most of those times, I came up empty-handed and had to buy regular Masala Maggi. One time I got so frustrated with the search I even called my mom to whine. "I can't find Tricky Tomato Maggi! And I visited 20 shops already!" "Why don't you just buy a different flavor?" "Becaaaaauuuse I want Tricky Tomaaatoooooo! Waaaaah!" This is how I waste money on long-distance phone calls: calling from India to the States to complain about the unavailability of instant noodle flavors.

(By the way, a few minutes ago I talked to my mom on the phone and told her about this blog post I'm currently writing, and she claimed to have zero recollection of this conversation. I swear I'm not crazy, it really happened. She probably doesn't remember because at the time she was bored of my trivial noodle dilemma and zoning out.)

One time I found a general shop that actually had numerous Tricky Tomato packs (usually, since there is such high demand and such low supply, shops only have 1 or 2 left, if they have any at all, which they most often don't). I shamelessly bought every single one, so that I could hoard for the future. I have returned to this same shop multiple times in hopes of restocking my kitchen, but alas they have been sold out of both Tricky Tomato and Thrillin' Curry every single time.

So, Maggi makers: fix your distribution! Send more Tricky Tomato and Thrillin' Curry to Sanjauli!! I promise my demand can single-handedly consume your entire supply. For the entire town. Pinky promise.

I hope this tale of desperation ends up on the back of a Maggi pack one day.

(PS: "2-minute" noodles is a lie, especially here at altitude. It takes well over 2 minutes for my water to even boil! I'd say making Maggi takes me 8 minutes. And even in Delhi, which does not have the slow-cooking-at-altitude problem, it took me 5 minutes. I'm fairly certain making Maggi in 2 minutes is not possible. Maggi, I know you know I'll eat you anyway, but I don't appreciate false advertising. Please stop lying to me!)

(PPS: I'm aware that this blog post could come across as an ad for Maggi. I promise they are not paying me to write this. It's just that Maggi is such an important part of my life in India I thought I should share this with you all. ...I realize how pathetic I sound.)

(PPPS: This is my life: Maggi and monkeys. If you ever had the idea that my life in India was full of glamor and adventure, you thought wrong. My life is full of instant noodles and simian shit.)

(PPPPS: When I first wrote this post, I spelled everything the British way without even realizing it, e.g. flavour, glamour. I've been in India too long.)

Hanuman strikes again.

I'm back from Cambodia and Thailand. It was awesome, as you can see:

Angkor Wat, Cambodia

a tree growing out of--and devouring--a temple
Ta Prohm, Angkor Thom, Cambodia


Dr. Fish massage--the fish are eating the dead skin off my feet. and it tickles.
Siem Reap, Cambodia


another tree swallowing a temple
Ta Som, Cambodia

Cambodia's answer to India's autorickshaws and Thailand's tuk-tuks: the remork-moto. Yes, that's a motorcycle with a carriage attached to the back.
road between Siem Reap and Beng Mealea, Cambodia


one of Angkor's temples was left as found, without cleanup or restoration, and you can still climb all over the place Indiana Jones-style. here, I conquered a pile of fallen stones, some with carvings.
Beng Mealea, Cambodia


Vishnu between my legs is probably offensive. But fallen carvings and vines inside a temple! And vines you can sit on!
Beng Mealea, Cambodia

Did I even take pictures in Thailand? Yes, but apparently none with me in them.

Now that that's out of the way, let's get to the real issue of the day (of every day, really):

Monkeys.

Remember when I bitched that the monkeys are multiplying? It's not my imagination. My neighbors are all commenting on how many monkeys there are--more than they ever remember, and some have lived in Sanjauli for 20 years. And they are all quite surprised by this. Apparently, Himachal Pradesh attempted to sterilize Sanjauli's monkeys. Key word: attempted. Fail. The monkeys and their impregnation abilities are clearly out of control.

And I'm here to tell you why. Or at least to tell you my neighbors' explanation.

Shimla recently completed constructing the largest Hanuman idol in the world, appropriately at Jakhoo Temple. According to my Hindu neighbors, the larger the Hanuman, the larger his monkey army must be. Thus, with the new huge Hanuman in town, Shimla's monkey army must grow. As a result Hanuman ensures that his troops are impervious to any population control efforts. (My Hindu neighbors claim that, as Hanuman is Shimla's protector deity, these simian soldiers are actually defending the town, but I have to disagree.)

I am 100% serious. Big Hanuman idol --> monkey population explosion. That is the only logical explanation anyone can think of here. ...and I might just believe them.