may i have this dance?

health centre the first (macleod gang): i begin to put my insides outside at an alarming rate. a trip to the hospital and a "normal" stool sample prompts the doctor to decide that nothing is wrong with me.

13 hour night bus to delhi later.... fever begins, bowels working overtime without pay.

health centre the second : you can talk to the doctor on the phone.

health centre the third: doctor takes pulse, writes prescription.

health centre the fourth: doctor takes temperature (now back to normal) and writes a prescription.

i opt against the random prescriptions. for a change in the porcelaine scenery, blood appears. is it normal to visit the loo 40 times in one day?

health centre the fifth: after a few questions they slap me in a white gown, stick an IV in my arm and ask for various bodily fluids in various cups. for the next few days widely assorted teams of doctors (primarily sikh men) appear in lineups next to my bed and mistake me for the pilsbury doughboy. poke. poke. poke. i do not oblige them with a "hoo hoo!". they seem elusive about what is actually wrong with me. after the ultrasound i become convinced that they are hunting for a humungous tapeworm nestled deep within me. so, i lie about for a few days, occaisionally taking my IV stand for a tipsy little waltz to the bathroom. it handles about as well as a shopping cart. if they had any idea of my clumsy nature i'm sure they would have thought better than sticking a pointy thing in my vein, attaching it to a wobbly pole and covering the whole thing with lots of glass bottles, tubes and valves that are way too easy to tip over, tangle and open. but the nurses were very patient and kind in helping to sort me out again... every time... finally they take out the IV, tell me i had salmonella and let me leave.

look mom! no parasites! best birthday present ever (and i only spent 17 hours of my special day in hospital).

how did i decide to celebrate my first day back to good health? by going to a mosque that had scare bombs go off in it less than a week ago, getting shoved in my IV arm by an asshole man (as so many seem to be in delhi) and then eating a big bowl of curd with a dead bug in it.

india, you sure know how to treat a girl right.

blowing away in dharamsala

the wind's come out a stormin'
and the power's off
for the tenth time tonight.
candles, darkness and lightbulbs
are passing along with the wind.
a lion headed lady roars songs outside the door,
thunder rolls in to back her.
it pleases me that she's my friend,
and it pleases me that she's locked me away
safe and alone in the room we share.
it's good to use my daytime rambling in the rocks
and picking thorns from the pads of my feet.
and it's good to remember that snowy mountains turn pink in the sunset,
like a million cherry trees lighting on fire for a moment
and then dying in respect for the soon-to-be night.
day's wind turns to night's wind
and whooshes blackness, candles, lightbulbs into town.

On the road again...

Dear Scott- happy birthday. I hope that you are kickin' it 25 style.

Also, Nessie- I know I asked about your birthday earlier but never sent an official birthday shout out, as I was in Myanmar at the time. Sorry, dood. But here it is now- Happy birthday Vanessa!

Now here's the short view:

Eben got worms. We abandonned him in Rishikesh. Kerria and I headed to Chandigarh and then to Amritsar where we are now. Eben may or may not still have worms. I may or may not have worms. I just don't want to know...

The slightly longer view:

Chandigarh is a city planned by Le Corbusier. It is filled with parks and sidewalks. And no cows. It is a physical manifestation of the 1950s "modern" hope for the future. Weird. There is an odd site there where some man made a stone garden of discarded industrial products, such as broken bangles. There was also a huge compound with swings everywhere and a wedding for seemingly about 50 billion people being prepared. We were shown around Chandigarh by an elderly Sikh gentleman named Narinder Singh. This tour included free food and a lot of free sweets at his friend's restaurant. He kept calling himself our good grandpapa and saying how very very happy he was to be walking/talking/eating with us. Even Kerria smoking made him happy.

Amritsar is home to the Golden Temple, where we are now staying and eating (completely free, as is customary in Sikh temples). There are no words to describe it. It is one of the holiest sites in Sikhism and has an amazing atmosphere. Day trips have included going to see goosestepping Pakistani and India soldiers who yell at each other in front of cheering crowds during the border closing ceremony at Wagah yesterday and today attending a carnival-esque Hindu temple bedecked in tinsel that you must duck through caves and walk through ankle-deep water to travel through.

Lastly, I have a new email account- thenatmaster@gmail.com. Please write to me so that i know it is working and so that i have your email addresses again. I am too lazy to import them all from hotmail.