Diarrhea Diwali

Recently I have, unfortunately, been a victim of explosive diarrhea. Whatever, it's India, that happens. I had the following Hindlish conversation with my Hindi teacher:


Teacher: आपकी तबीयत कैसी है? / How is your health?

Me: आज... बहुत अच्छी नहीं | / Today... not so good.

Teacher: क्यों? क्या हुआ? / Why? What happened?

Me: हिन्दी में "explosive diarrhea" का मतलब क्या हैं? / What is the meaning of "explosive diarrhea" in Hindi?

Teacher: हम "explosive diarrhea" नहीं कहते हैं | Diarrhea का मतलब "दस्त" है | / We don't say "explosive diarrhea." The meaning of diarrhea is "dast."

Me: लेकिन मैं "explosive" कहना चाहती हूँ | यह साधारण दस्त नहीं था | / But I want to say explosive. This was no ordinary diarrhea.*

Teacher: ठीक है | आप "ब्लास्ट" कह सकती हैं | / Ok, you can say "blast."

Me: दस्त का ब्लास्ट? / Diarrhea blast?

Teacher, laughing: हाँ जी | तो क्या आपने दवा ली? / Yes ji. So did you take medicine? ("take medicine" = "davaa li")

Me: Diwali? DIARRHEA DIWALI?! BAHAHAHAHAHA

Teacher, laughing: I was asking if you took medicine.

Me: OOOHH, DAVAA LI!! BAHAHAHAHA

Teacher: आपको कभी कभी ज़्यादा ध्यान देनी की ज़रूरत है | / You need to pay more attention sometimes.

Me, still doubled over in laughter: माफ़ कीजिये | दस्त के ब्लास्ट मेरे मन में थे | ब्लास्ट | दिवाली | समझ गए? समझ गए?! / I'm sorry. Diarrhea blasts were on my mind. Blasts. Diwali. Get it? Get it?!

Teacher: समझ गया | It was Diwali in your toilet. / I get it. It was Diwali in your toilet.

Me: YES. YES IT WAS.


Further research has revealed to me that "explosive" in Hindi is विस्फोटक, "visphotak." So explosive diarrhea would be "visphotak dast." But I kinda prefer the ring of "dast ka blaast." Either way, these are not not the most useful phrases I've ever learned in Hindi.

*Explosive diarrhea is, arguably, ordinary diarrhea in India.

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.

Don't let them fool you.

Monkeys. As a young lass in the US, I thought monkeys were cute and playful and pretty much the best land animals ever (but my favorite overall animals were, naturally, whales). At age 6, I had a plush monkey with exaggerated arms and velcro on the hands so that it could hug things (and me) that I bought at the Baltimore Zoo. I loved that toy. I even went through a phase in middle school when I only wore Paul Frank, the monkey-lover's answer to Hello Kitty (it was an awkward time in my life, ok?). Seriously, just ask my mom, Jessie S., and Mayan, and they will tell you: 12-year-old Emily loved monkeys (by the way, Jessie S. and Mayan were totally guilty of going through a monkey phase too! And I was totally jealous of Jessie's Aeropostale monkey pajama pants, even though I had the Paul Frank version. Her monkey design was just cuter).

This was all before I came to India, a place that has shattered my dreams of adorable monkeys playfully swinging through trees and not threatening human life. My earliest evil monkey encounter occurred in Gingee (pronounced Sinjee), Tamil Nadu. A bunch of us in my study abroad program decided to take a fun weekend away from campus to visit the fort in Gingee and the temples in Tiruvannamalai. Fun, we thought. Until we were attacked by monkeys.

Gingee Fort

view from the fort

When we finally reached the uppermost section of the fort, we decided to stop and eat lunch. As we were eating, we slowly realized that more and more monkeys were approaching. Soon, we were surrounded by monkeys on all sides, with nowhere to go. One monkey even snatched Fred's bag of dates right out of his backpack! They clearly intended to steal more food from us. They hissed, bared their teeth, and crouched in about-to-pounce position--very intimidating. So we did the only thing we could: we ran. I remember jumping off the structure because monkeys were blocking the stairs. And I ran all the way down the hill. I then refused to climb up to the second area of the fort, because I had had enough of these monkeys (Zeliha would later tell me how the monkeys at the second section tried to steal her juice box right out of her hands, and I was happy with my decision to stay put).

evil monkeys who stole our food

Unfortunately for me, Shimla is the epicenter of monkey madness. Shimla's monkeys are infamous all over India. If I tell an Indian I'm living in Shimla, one of the first things they ask is "how do you handle the monkeys?" Indians often mention monkeys before the beautiful mountain scenery, the colonial architecture, and the (relatively) pleasant climate. These notorious monkeys steal ice cream out of children's hands at the Mall and glasses off of faces at the Jakhoo Temple.

Jakhoo Temple is appropriately dedicated to Hanuman, the Hindu monkey god. This temple surely must be Hanuman's Lair, as thousands of monkeys--every single one of them evil--populate the area. In fact, these monkeys are particularly evil. A neighbor once told me that she saw a monkey pry a 4-month-old baby out of his mother's arms and then bring the baby up a tree. The monkey only released his hostage after banana negotiations. In my opinion, it was terrible parenting to bring such a young child to Hanuman's Lair. Needless to say, I will NEVER step foot in these glasses- and baby-stealing monkey-infested temple grounds.

monkeys on the Mall plotting their next attack. as you can see, I tried to keep my distance.

The state of Himachal Pradesh has tried numerous measures to control the monkey population, but to no avail. The most recent desperate attempt? The state has declared open hunting season on the monkeys; farmers can shoot to kill these monkeys if they feel their farms are threatened.

The monkeys in my neighborhood are no exception. They are just as menacing. My landlord installed grills on my windows so that monkeys would not break into my apartment (yes, it happens, usually through the kitchen). I hang my newly-washed clothes to dry on the terrace, despite the risks (I have heard stories of monkeys ripping up expensive saris left out to dry), and I have paid the consequences. One time, a monkey unclipped a kurta from the line and threw it over the terrace onto the street below. Luckily, a shopkeeper picked up the now-filthy garment and returned it to me. Another time, I found all my underwear missing; clearly, monkeys stole my underwear. From time to time, monkeys leave me gifts: their feces. I'm afraid to go out onto a my terrace at night, because sometimes I hear monkeys fighting and shrieking out there. Or even if they're not fighting, they are hanging out there and G-d only knows what they'd do to me. Every morning I'm woken up by the monkeys and dogs having an all-out epic battle, and there is no question in my mind that the monkeys win every time.

The monkeys in my neighborhood gave birth recently. There are tiny--and I mean tiny--baby monkeys stumbling around everywhere or clinging to their mothers' undersides. Adorable? One might be fooled into thinking so, but let's not forget that these monkeys' mothers will train them to become monsters. So another generation of devils has been brought into this world, and I am not happy about it.

spawn of Satan

In conclusion, don't let these monkeys fool you: they are not cute, they are evil menaces to be shot by angry farmers.

Diarrhea Mystery: Actually Solved.

My wonderful friend Alice read my previous post and replied via email with the following:

"Because I like talking about poop too:

Though your new friends' openness about bathroom practices is admirable, there are a lot of different things that can cause bouts of diarrhea, and various reasons people who grew up in a country where the water is safe have a harder time here.

1. Some foods draw water into the bowels. Undigested lactose (in lactose intolerant people) and fructose (in people who just consumed too much fructose) are examples of this.

2. Some people's bowels are irritated by specific foods. In some cases this may be due to an allergy, though it could also just be due to eating more pungent food than usual. Sometimes undercooked spices have a strong bitter taste, so if there really are a lot of undercooked spices being used, this might irritate both your taste buds and your bowels. This should vary from person to person, and also depend on what kind of food you're used to.

3. A number of medicines can mess with your system enough to cause diarrhea.

4. Of course, the water here is often contaminated with pathogens like E. coli. People who've had more exposure to these pathogens throughout their lifetimes are less likely to get sick from a small dose than a person who's grown up with less exposure. However, it's still quite possible for people who are born in developing countries to get diarrhea, especially as children. About 8% of deaths in India are from diarheal diseases, most of which are treatable. Tests of diarrhea patients in Indian hospitals usually find evidence of intestinal pathogens in about 50% of cases, though tests may miss infections in many of the patients whose results come back negative. So, I think the main cause of diarrhea in people of all nationalities here is infection.

Anyway, this seems likely to be correct--everyone I know here (with whom I'm close enough to talk about these things) gets mild diarrhea once in a while. Yet in America, it's somewhat less common. I don't see any reason to think that Americans are more careful about fully cooking their spices, and in fact Americans probably eat more uncooked food and spices... because the water in India is less safe."

Thank you, Alice, for solving this mystery!

Another Indian Mystery: Solved?

Another great Indian mystery:

Why does Indian food (sometimes) give people diarrhea?

I had always assumed this was a Western-stomach-not-used-to-Indian-food thing. But yesterday Mudit and Shatabdi, Mudit's wife and another coworker and friend, were complaining about how the office food gave them diarrhea. I was shocked. Indians were having diarrhea too!

Shatabdi explained why the office food was giving us diarrhea: the spices were not fully cooked. Apparently, in order to stave off diarrhea, spices are supposed to be cooked (according to Shatabdi, usually fried) before being added to the food. But the cook at work was just throwing in raw spices after the rest of the food had been cooking for a while, and with not enough cooking time left to fully cook the spices.

So the next time Indian food gives you diarrhea, it's likely that the spices were thrown in raw. But I'm a bit skeptical that this is the reason every time. After all, if one throws in the spices at the same time as the rest of the food, shouldn't the spices be fully cooked? I'm sure there are other reasons behind Indian food-induced diarrhea. For me, this mystery is not yet completely solved.

India's Greatest Mystery: Solved.

India is a land of mystery, with many great mysteries that bewilder the foreigner. But one mystery is far more mysterious than the rest:

How the hell do Indians go to the bathroom without toilet paper?!

This mystery has plagued foreigners for centuries, since the arrival of the British, probably. Well, after 3 years, 1 month, 1 week, and 3 days (I first landed in India on July 29, 2007) of searching for answers all over the subcontinent, I have finally discovered the secret.

Indians guard this secret very closely. But one Indian, one of 1.1 billion people, let his guard down. Mudit, a coworker and new friend, told me what Prashanth, Angela, Anand, Pooja, and all the others refused to explain (seriously, I've been asking everyone). He described two methods:

1. The Pour-then-Wipe From the Front

Hold the hand you do not use for eating (so if you're right-handed, your left hand) in front of you, slightly below your crotch. Pour water into this hand, which should be cupped, with your other hand (you will find a small plastic pitcher in most Indian bathrooms). Then, wipe between your legs. Repeat as necessary.

2. The Simultaneous Pour-and-Wipe From Behind

Hold your non-eating hand behind you and slightly below your butt. Using your eating hand, pour water down your intergluteal cleft (a.k.a. your butt crack) from behind. Catch this water with your non-eating hand and wipe upwards. Pour continuously and repeat wiping as necessary (the pouring and wiping actions are simultaneous).

Apparently, the preferred method is #1, The Pour-then-Wipe From the Front. It's easier, more comfortable, and less messy (well, less messy in terms of water, I guess; I assume your wiping hand gets just as messy). Now, if you think like me, you would probably ask this next question:

But doesn't that leave your butt wet? How do you not leave the bathroom without a wet stain on your pants?

According to Mudit, yes, this will leave your butt wet. But the amount of water in your hand is minimal, so it's not enough to soak through your pants. Especially if you're wearing underwear between your butt and your pants, as you should be; the underwear will absorb the water so that your pants do not have any visible traces of your bathroom excursion. I of course asked if this was uncomfortable (I wipe my butt raw if that's what it takes to be dry, thank you very much), but it seems Indians are just used to this feeling.

And my last question, which even the all-knowing Mudit could not answer:

If Indians wipe their butts with their hands, then why didn't my TERI coworkers ever wash their hands after using the toilet?!

Mudit was just as grossed out as I was.

(By the way, he's also a bit grossed out about the idea of wiping with only toilet paper, without water. He feels that the water is absolutely necessary for proper cleaning, and to wipe without water just isn't hygienic. So perhaps it is the Westerners who have strange, less sanitary bathroom habits!)

And yes, this post means I'm back in India and back to blogging. More to come from Shimla soon!

PS: I apologize if this was a bit graphic for some. But you can't say I didn't warn you!

Renaming the blog: "Shit, Sweat, Bribe"?

Obviously I renamed the blog simply by crossing out "Delhi" and writing "Shimla." But perhaps I should get more creative. What do you think of Shit, Sweat, Bribe: One Woman's Search for... Something?... in India? (This mocks the bestseller book "Eat, Pray, Love: One Woman's Search for Everything Across Italy, India, and Indonesia.") I promise the leading picture wouldn't be as graphic as the title.

...but I can't promise that my stories won't be too graphic. ;) (Hey, I've actually been pretty good about keeping this blog clean. I didn't even write about my bout of dengue fever!)

Hello old neighbors, and hello toilet wind! (Or, my return to Delhi)

I'm back. Back in Delhi, that is. Was I sad to leave my beloved South India? No. Was I excited to return to Delhi, where I have a home and (at least a slight semblance of) a social life? No.* When I left Thiruvananthapuram, I felt oddly emotionless. Usually I feel something when I leave a place, even if it's only for a short time. But nope, nothing. Weird.

*This is not to say I wasn't excited to see my friends. Of course I was. I just wasn't feeling particularly excited about the prospect of returning to Delhi in general.

I had a flight at death o'clock in the morning from Thiruvananthapuram (woke up at 3:45am. Most painful moment of my life). When the flight descended into Delhi, I almost vomited at the sight. I swear, it took very bone in my body to not dry heave right there on the plane. Despite Delhi being a humongous city, I could barely see the buildings, only a faint outline. All I saw was gray. Gray pollution. It was like descending into a smoke stack or exhaust pipe. Suddenly my emotionless self was filled with emotions of "uuggghh why is this where I live?!" and dread of landing and actually entering this polluted city.

My feelings quickly changed when I got to my apartment (though not about the pollution). It was great to see Sam again and to be home. Yes, my apartment really feels like home to me, and one of my favorite feelings in the world is arriving home after being gone for a while.

I decided I needed to get some returning-home errands done. I needed a Sri Lanka guidebook (obviously this was an immediate need. I mean, who doesn't need a SL book?), but the only good bookstore I know of is in Khan Market. As some of you know, the US, UK, Canadian, and Australian embassies have issued warnings of an "imminent terrorist attack" in Delhi's major markets--including Khan. Luckily, I have a roommate who researches South Asian terrorism for a living. Sam assured me that the attack would only occur between the hours of 5 and 8pm or on the weekend, because the terrorists want to kill as many people as possible. No point in attacking an empty market at 2pm on a weekday. In other words, if I wanted to go and not die, I had to go right then. So I did, and I'm still alive!

To get to Khan Market, I of course had to take an auto. Now, I had not taken an auto in a city where I can kind of speak the language in a month. In Kerala, the autowallahs only speak Malayalam, so my Hindi was rendered useless and I couldn't even hope to bargain. But here autowallahs speak Hindi! I cannot tell you how happy I was. A humongous goofy grin appeared on my face when I spoke the first Hindi words in a month. I giggled my way through the bargaining. The autowallah was utterly confused about why I was so happy-go-lucky. I think he thought I was high. And I was--high on Hindi! Hah. I got him down to Rs 30--only Rs 5 above the meter (that's the best anyone, including Indians, can hope for in Delhi). Apparently, I haven't lost my mad auto bargaining skillz!

After cheating death in Khan Market, I headed to Bhogal for some shopping and threading. I passed the auto pimp's autostand, and all the autowallahs started yelling at me, "Hello madam! आप कहाँ थी? [Aap kahan thi?/where were you?]" "मैं काम के लिए केरला में थी। [Main kaam ke liye Kerala mein thi./I was in Kerala for work.]" " बहुत अच्छा! हम खुश हैं कि आप वापस आई! [Bahut achchha! Ham khush hain ki aap vaapas aayi!/Very good! We're glad you came back!]" I had pretty much identical conversations with the tailor, the threading ladies at the beauty parlor, the guys at Kadimi's (my favorite samosa place), and the convenience store owner. It was really nice that people remembered me and seemed happy to see me--it makes the neighborhood feel like home. I love Jangpura!

What I did not love, however, was the incredible amount of dust flying into eyes and covering my body this afternoon. Apparently I arrived back in Delhi just as the Loo is descending upon the city. And by "the Loo is descending," I do not mean a giant British toilet is raining shit on Delhi--though I'm not sure that would be much worse. The Loo is a dry westerly wind bringing in extremely high temperatures and mountain-loads of dust from Rajasthan's Thar Desert, and it occurs for a few hours every afternoon from May until the start of the monsoon in June. Some days the Loo will bring in so much dust it will create the illusion of an overcast sky. Oh, you thought the dark sky was clouds? Or at worst pollution? Wrong. It's DUST. And it's going to invade your apartment. Everything in my apartment is covered in a thin film of dust--despite daily dusting efforts--and I've read that we should put wet towels over our windows to reduce the dust when the Loo gets really bad. I've also read that we should not go outdoors during the afternoon Loo hours. It's only beginning and not terrible yet, but at its worst many animals and people die from heat exhaustion/strokes. The Loo is like the opposite of a cool sea breeze; it's the hot breeze of death. You can learn more about India's toilet wind on the all-knowing Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Loo_%28wind%29 (yes, I know, I reference Wikipedia way too often on this blog. I fully intend to continue to do so.)

[On a tangent: I would like to summarize Delhi weather for you:

December to February: cold winter (remember, no central heating in buildings) with fog so thick planes are grounded, trains move at a snail's pace, and I can't find my way home at night because I can't see across the street (not to mention the increase in pollution)
late Feb - mid March: a few rare weeks of pleasant weather
mid March - June: ridiculously hot summer, with temperatures reaching 120 degrees F and a daily afternoon hot dry wind carrying copious amounts of dust that can literally darken the sky and cause fatal heat exhaustion
June - September: monsoon season, with sticky humidity and heavy rains that flood the streets (except last summer when the monsoon was weak and Delhi stayed ridiculous dry and hot)
October: still pretty hot
November: the only pleasant month temperature-wise, but the pollution starts to get worse

To summarize the summary: fog/smog, heat the temperature of Hell, dust storms, street floods. In conclusion, Delhi may very well have the worst weather on the planet.]

However, with the Loo comes mango season! Well, actually, the wind doesn't bring suspended or flying mangoes like it does dust particles. But the start of mango season just so happens to coincide. The main street of Bhogal is crawling with vendors selling mangoes and "mango shek" (mango shakes). Rumor has it the mangoes of early May aren't very good (don't ask me why, I don't understand these agricultural matters), but by late May they should be delicious!

Tonight I ate pizza and watched Zoolander with Alice and Pooja (neither of them had seen it!! I know, completely unacceptable. Though Pooja couldn't get into the silly humor). You know that scene where Zoolander is being brainwashed and Mugatu pretends to be a little girl who loves child labor? And he mentions a bunch of countries that employ child labor while map outlines of those countries pop up? When he mentions India, the map outline includes Afghanistan, Pakistan, Bangladesh, Nepal, and Bhutan, despite mentioning Bangladesh separately! It also appears that Mongolia is included in the China map. I can't believe I never noticed this before, and I wonder if it's intentional or a mistake. See for yourself (pause at 1:32):



Anyway, obviously pizza + Zoolander + friends = the best evening I've had in a long time.

So I guess I'm happy to be back in Delhi? Well, I wouldn't go so far as to say happy (did I mention the pollution and toilet wind??), but it's nice to be back.

Splishin' and a splashin'

Today I went to IIT-Delhi for a meeting (TERI is collaborating with some professors there on the cookstoves project). I can't share what went on in that meeting (which is unfortunate because it was quite dramatic), but I'll share a funny pre-meeting story.

When we arrived at IIT, I had to pee. Like really badly. So I asked the only female in the room (a research assistant to one of the professors) where the ladies' bathroom was. Because the hallways of IIT are a little confusing, she escorted me to the bathroom rather than giving me directions.

There were two stalls, one Western and one Indian (squat). I looked around and couldn't find toilet paper or even paper towels anywhere. Unfortunately, I didn't have any toilet paper on me (I usually do) because TERI's bathrooms provide toilet paper and I didn't expect to be leaving TERI today. So I asked the woman if there was somewhere I could get toilet paper.

She didn't seem to understand what my problem was. "Do you not need the toilet anymore?"

"No, I do. But I need toilet paper. Is there somewhere nearby I can get some?" (I noticed a toilet paper holder nailed to the wall, so I thought maybe there was a supply closet somewhere or a custodian we could ask.)

The woman leaned in very close and whispered, "are you having... [pauses, shifts her eyes back and forth to see if anyone else is around] ...the period?"

Trying not to laugh: "No, no. I just... I wipe. I never figured out the splashing technique."

The woman just stared at me and looked totally confused. She clearly had no idea what to do.

"It's ok. I can just hold it in."

"But that is very... [struggling to come up with the right word] ...uncomfortable."

"That's ok. I'll be home soon."

On the way back to the conference room, the woman suddenly blurted out, "did you mean that napkin-type paper that wraps around a cardboard roll?"

It didn't occur to me that she didn't know what I meant by "toilet paper."

"Yes, that's toilet paper. I'm used to using toilet paper. That's how we clean up where I come from."

"Oh. See, we must have a German toilet. You're used to the American toilet."

I had absolutely no idea what she meant by this. "What??"

"Yes, the Germans splash too. But they splash in a different way than us Indians. See, that's why we don't have those napkin rolls. It must be a German toilet. You must splash."

Any Germans out there: is this true? Do you splash rather than wipe? If I ever go to Germany, should I carry around my own rolls of toilet paper?

"You look like shit today."

"You look like shit today."

"Wow, you look awful!"

"Why do you look dead?"

These were actual comments I got at work today. The only difference between today and all other days was that I wore my hair down, because it was finally cool enough to do so. Will told me my hair looked "unkempt," but really I had just let it air-dry and it looked the same as it always does when it's down. I guess Indians aren't used to seeing a little frizz?

The comments stopped when I put my hair up in a ponytail.

This is the opposite of what happens back in the US, where everyone encourages me to let my hair down!