Monday, 7 November 2011
Diwali, Delhi Belly & The Broadband Blues
I was not sorry to see to the back of last week, no Sirree Bob, in fact I had my very own little 'Mini Festival' (although I didn't have any fireworks or drums so I had to improvise with saucepans, a wooden spoon and a box of kitchen matches)
It all started, funnily enough, as the week often does, on
Monday I woke up to my first real bout of 'Delhi Belly'. Yes after years of boasting that I have never succumbed to the weak and feeble stomach of your average Westerner here, it finally happened and the Shizzles came to town, big time stylee.
Naturally accompanied by a whole host of pre festival delights of vomiting, fever, general malaise.
Meanwhile in a Galaxy far far away (ok the next state) BF was having further tests for generally concerning kidney stones, so I became a Jewish Mother and worried for all of us (and possibly the Palestine conflict as well). It really was a rubbish day, the electricity dipped in and out, whenever the fancy took it and although I was bereft of all bodily expulsions by noon, even with no food inside me oddly they soldiered on and I spent the rest of the day playing that delightful game of 'which way should I face the toilet bowl'.
I'll get over it I thought, I'm a strong 'un, so I took some meds and slept it off...
Tuesday Woke up feeling worse! "Are you having a chuckle?" I said to my bowels, turns out they weren't, the joke was on me. I confined myself to bed, resting and watching you tube downloads of trashy TV shows (you know your sick when you really enjoy a 'The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills' marathon) I was half way through the second episode when off went the router lights, yes, no intenet.. And you know you're real sick when you feel robbed of seeing if Kyle & Lisa have another drunken cat fight
It's not the first time, or even the bazzillonth time, we've put a complaint into to our (laughingly called) 'Service Provider' they assured us they would show up tomorrow, first thing.. But wait isn't tomorrow....
Wednesday Diwali? Ah yes the morning of the Festival of lights (sadly the electricity board failed to concur) as if they were really going to show up on the biggest holiday of the year, it would be akin to AT&T on Thanksgiving. So no internet, barely any electricity, all alone, too sick to attend any festival, apart from the bathroom one. I was well feeling sorry for myself, proper down in the dumps I was and still taking many of them.
Thursday arrived and with it so did India's version of Cheech & Chong, thinly disguised as Broadband engineers, after staring at the router for what appeared to be an Ice Age but was probably a few hours they left and said they would return, they also left a kind Diwali gift for me, as one of them appeared to have missed the toilet.
Aside from this, after three days without food, I had to eat as Bob Geldof had already left me a voice mail inquiring as to whether or not I needed a benefit concert arranging. But as I was a lifeless zombie, think Shaun of the Dead but with way less humour and as I also find it easier to invent things for NASA than call for take out here, I called BF who called for me... Simple yay?
Nay... all I wanted was Pizza, Chips & Salad (token nutrition).
So the food shows up with such a colossal bill I at least expected full silver service and a tap dance from the delivery guy, I opened up my box of goodies and was greeted by soggy fries, cold pizza and warm salad, I didn't even realise Feta cheese could melt, not a good thing for lettuce, but I was so hungry I would have eaten a horse with a scabby head so I woofed the offending items down and it was back to bed.
However as there were more fireworks still going down than gunfire on the Gazzza Strip, very little sleeping got done and with no internet it was Unhappy Diwali to me.
Friday Cheech & Chong never returned and we still had no internet, however a new fellow showed up and promised me he was 'addressing my issues' turns out he wasn't a therapist but a more senior engineer, he proceeded to, like all people who come to your front door here, remove his shoes (Indian's spend a large part of the day taking their shoes off & on) and entered.
I pointed to the router which is just at the side of the door, clearly my pointing skills aren't what they used to be and he went to put his shoes back on, I said 'No, No' and once again pointed to what I assumed (being a senior internet engineer and all) he would realise that this was the issue that indeed needed addressing, but no...
To the left of the router lay a pair of my tiny size 4 pink flip flops (he looked at least a size 10) and he then tried to struggle his feet into them, like one of the ugly sisters in Cinderella. I was gobsmacked and wondered how a man either as incompetent and/or as strangely fettish as he would be able to address any of my issues, as he clearly had his own to resolve. Finally Foot Fettish guy understood me and set to work on the repairs whilst I set to work on disinfecting my flip flops.
A little while later he mumbled the words 'copper pipes' and I thought well at least he didn't ask if I had any stiletto's and just like Cheech & Chong before him, disappeared. However copper pipes became my new BFF when the internet came back.
Saturday Woke up to even colder pizza and NO INTERNET, immediately I removed copper pipes from my Christmas list and the Gazzilionth complaint was lodged. An hour or two later Cheech & Chong were back who said the words 'Wires Madame' perplexed I left the room to call BF to get him to shout at them in their native tongue as shouting always seems more effective in Hindi.
Upon my return to check on these Clownsters I found Cheech (or maybe Chong) sucking live wires and indulging in what could only be described as EEP (Erotic Engineer Porn). It was at this very moment, thinking back to foot fettish guy, I couldn't help wonder what the selection process to become a TATA Broadband engineer was?
Once again the line was 'allegedly' fixed and off they went to join the Circus or maybe attend The Playboy Mansion Bootcamp, who knows or cares...
Sunday I was finally starting to feel a bit better and BF's surgery had been confirmed so I thought I'd relax on the terrace and read the Sunday Times. Deep in thought with the crossword I heard a sudden thud that sounded like it had come from above, I looked up from the paper and POW! Another monkey, this time balanced precariously on the balcony railings, on hind legs, and about to pounce... ON ME!!
Armed with only a newspaper, a pen and half a cup of coffee I decided to go all David Attenborough and secretly sit it out, however plans changed when the monkey seemed to be eyeing up a tour of the house. With visions of swinging from the lights and wild animal poo all over the place I violently rustled the newspaper and with that he lost his balance and it was on to pastures anew for him and tightly bolted doors for me.
I sought solace in the safety of the kitchen but alas no take out food left, however feeling slightly better and not wishing to venture out into Natureland, by the means of the freezer and the pantry, I rustled up a quick lunch
serves 1 miserable 1!!!
1 skinless, boneless chicken breast
marinated with lemon juice, wine, cumin, coriander & chilli powder
cooked white basmati rice
few chopped peppers, onions, mushroom, corn, tomato
1 large green chilli pepper, sliced
Pan fry the chicken in olive oil and the marinade juices till seared on both sides, season and place in a medium oven or grill to cook until juices run clear
Toss the chopped vegetables in a little more oil in the same pan and add the rice, stir fry till heated through and season
Grill the chilli peppers, plate & serve & cheer up :)
(Just for the record this week wasn't much better)
To be continued...