Getting over it

I love Indian English – there is always an elegant and often quaint way of expressing yourself and always a new gem. For example, I am no longer puzzled when I am asked to “open my shoes” and I know to take my shoes off.

Living in the south has some brought some wonderful new examples for me. Levels of English are very high here and I still smile when I remember, just after our arrival in Chennai, overhearing two elderly gents having a disagreement in the street. "..........yes, but sir, that is not MY botheration..............."

However, yesterday I realised that sometimes our English is not easy to understand unless we use certain expressions. My cooking gas cylinder has run out of gas and I spoke to the landlady, who handles these things for her tenants. Her English is excellent and it makes our life very easy. So I was not prepared for the blank look when I told her that the gas was finished. So I tried again

“The gas cylinder – it is empty”

Still confusion.

“Erm – cylinder has no gas” (struggle, struggle)

“you know cooking not possible”. By now I was miming cooking actions…….

And in final desperation,

“Gas illeh” (I am not sure how it is spelt but illeh means ‘no’ or ‘ there isn't any’ in Tamil).

Finally she smiled - “you mean the gas is getting over?” she asked me simply, clearly wondering, why on earth I had not just said that.

“Yes, yes!” I said “yes, the gas is getting over”.

Next time I will know to say that the gas is getting over, and try not to wonder - getting over what? A serious illness? A broken relationship? Or just getting over itself?

New swimming style

Part of my recovery strategy is to build up my strength and stamina through swimming which I love. So tonight I ventured out to the nearby hotel where I often luxuriate in a long swim and was delighted to find that the pool was completely empty - marvellous! After my recent tummy troubles however, I found that an old back injury was giving a little twinge so to ensure that I didn't aggravate it I experimented to find a swimming style which would work the right muscles. After all you can't pay 200 rupees and then find you can't swim - no Scot could allow that. I am not a crawl person - you can't keep your head above water and your glasses on for that so that one was out of the question, similarly butterfly is not my scene either. So I very quickly settled in to a steady and gentle breast stroke with the arms and a kind of crawl movement with the feet. Perfect - no aggravation, no waste of rupees and steady building of strength and stamina.

But as I was swimming up and down the pool, I started to wonder what this amazing new stroke would be called? I thought it should be either the crest or the brawl being a hybrid of breast and crawl. Given the dignified nature and steady sight I felt I must be, I decided on the crest - how elegant and flowing. And besides I see so many examples in the pool of the other stroke - the macho guys ploughing up and down, arms and legs everywhere, splashing water from one side to the other and managing to take up the whole pool. This so closely resembles a one man fight in a swimming pool it just has to be called the brawl!

Off the radar

Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear!

Well there I was, catching up with everything since my Bangladesh visit, mulling over the wealth of airline and flying anecdotes to share here, when I was totally grounded! After several weeks of general dodginess in the gastro-enteral (enteric? well you know where I mean) region, I finally succumbed to some really spectacular lurgey and was totally off the screen, too sick initially to face going to the doctor, can you imagine! (And to be honest with too great a dependency on my own familiar bathroom). Now I have some wonderfully foul tasting and equally spectacular horse pills to tackle both sets of visitors which had taken up residence and are now in the process of eviction.

That is why there has been no word from FBG.

The good news is that these pills might taste disgusting but they seem to be doing the trick as I am already feeling much better and the energy levels restoring nicely.

So another game of catch up beckons, which includes the imminent posting of travel tips including "how to stay upright with a sleeping child on your shoulder during take-off" and "the advantages of serving in-flight catering before take-off".

More very soon from the temporarily fusty green sicko.

Blue moon

I have just learned something really interesting! Just sitting here catching up on e-mails I spotted the moon shining through the trees outside the balcony. It looked like full moon but to check for sure I googled it - and got more than I expected. Not only is today full moon - it is also a blue moon! Apparently there really is an astrological phenomenon (unpronounceable one too!) - bear with me if I am last on the planet to discover this - called a blue moon.

According to the Hindu News, June 30 is ‘blue moon’ day

HYDERABAD: This month will witness an uncommon occurrence of two full moons. While the first full moon occurred on June 1, there will be another on June 30.When such an event occurs, the second full moon is called the ‘blue moon’ due to the uncommon happening and not because the moon in any way turns blue, according to B.G. Sidharth, Director-General, B.M. Birla Science Centre.In a press release on Wednesday, he said a ‘blue moon’ month occurs once in a few years and at times in about 12 years.

Apparently there are many more technical details, but that is enough for me. Enlightened blue gecko!

Dhaka - a preview

I arrived back safely late last night from a very intense and interesting week in Dhaka. While I am preparing my thoughts and experiences (including a disproportionate number of air travel tales) I thought I would post this picture from of the sunset the first evening I arrived.

The ironing shop

My friend, neighbour and colleague B was leaving Chennai recently as her assignment here was completed. Packing was the usual nightmare and to take belongings and clothes back luggage was way over the airline weight allowance. Gifts were given, and anything which really had no possible further use went out in the rubbish. Included in the rubbish was a bag of old clothes which had well outlived their usefulness. We arrived back from work together that evening – and we were met by a smiling watchman who handed B a mystery carrier bag, asking for 25 rupees. He couldn’t understand our blank faces and we couldn’t understand what on earth this was all about. B peeked into the bag and was instantly enlightened. All of her discarded old clothes had been sent to the ironing shop, by the proactive watchman, ironed on credit, and returned to her within the day!!

So what is this ironing shop? When we arrived in Chennai we learned that there is a specific local industry which takes care of all ironing and removes the hassle and time consuming mind-numbing task from the day to day chores. Ironing is immediately outsourced to – the ironing shop! On most streets in the residential areas, there is at least one stall, set on what looks like large bicycle wheels, surrounded by bundles of laundry and with a huge non electrical iron. For around 2 - 3 rupees per item, your ironing is completely taken care of at the ironing shop and everybody is happy.

On sharing B's lovely tale with a friend in the Netherlands, who is also Indian, she observed that in Europe you have to wash and clean your rubbish before you throw it out! Only in India does your discarded rubbish come back to you all fresh and ironed!

Weather report

This is not just a weather report - this is NEWS!

I was woken in the middle of the night (well, 4 am which here is morning but for me is the middle of the night), by a sound which I could not quite identify at first. Then I realised it was the sound of - RAIN!! How exciting. You have to have lived out of Scotland and in a place like Chennai for a while to appreciate the excitement of this. Since I arrived in Chennai at the beginning of January I have seen it rain only three times. Yes, 3. Added to which, we apparently get the retreating monsoon here which arrives late in the year, unlike most other parts of India and Nepal where I am more familiar with the monsoon patterns.

Anyway, in the middle of the night, as I was slowly getting used to the idea of rain, I was treated to a full performance from the elements. Crashing thunder, simultaneous lightning which lit up the bedroom long enough to have a surreal photographic impression in my mind, and the torrential rain. The electricity cut and the fan slowed and stopped which is usually a nightmare in the heat and humidity. However, the silence brought an intensity and immediacy to the storm. I listened as it approached a crescendo and then slowly faded. The lightning became less vivid and dazzling, and the thunder slowed in its response as the storm either disappeared or moved on to another part of the city. Before long the electricity and fan resumed as if it had all been a strange dream.



When it was time to start the day the roads were still soaking, the puddles full of leaves and blossom and the talk on everyone's lips was of the night storm. Later, in the middle of the afternoon, another murmur of excitement began and smiling faces announced that it was raining again. This warranted a look outside and a number of us gathered to watch the rain and breathe in the cooler air for a quick refreshing break before we resumed our tasks.


The rain cannot begin to compare with the constant reliability of Scottish rain, and the storm is tame in comparison with the incredible electric storms which were part of life in Nepal. But this night time storm brought real vibrancy and life to the new day. Now I wait in anticipation for the REAL rains to start later in the year.