Chomp!

Honestly, sometimes India makes me miserable. I would have slept well but I got bitten three times: twice on the chin and once on the arm. I don't know where the mosquito came from since it's January (!) but naturally it would find me somehow. I'm all swollen and puffy and itchy and grumpy. Other than that, things are great. I'm online (it's dial up but surprisingly fast), I have already had my favourite dessert (rasmalai), my parent's new flat is amazing - high ceilings, marble floors, spa-style bathrooms - if a bit cavernous for just two of us. And we've already talked to the important people so hopefully today will be good, whenever we figure out what we're doing exactly.

We booked our tickets to Calcutta for Monday afternoon. I somehow have to find a way to tell my grandfather that I won't be staying with him because A has rented a flat close to her ailing grandmother. When there are this many people to coordinate with, things get much more difficult. Today will likely be the reverse. We have no real plans. I'm hoping to do some shopping but it's Sunday and I never know in Asia when things are going to be open. In Hong Kong, everything was open on Christmas Eve and most things were open Christmas Day and Boxing Day. Even the grocery store was open til 10 pm on Christmas Day. It was great, actually. For those of us who don't celebrate and feel like we're misisng out, it was good to get all of my errands done. It didn't feel like a special day at all until we went out with some friends for dinner.

One thing I wanted to mention after my last post was the food on Cathay Pacific. It was actually excellent. My dad's omelette, hash brown and sausage was decent as far as plane food goes. But I chose the Indian vegetarian option (because I'm allergic to eggs - have I mentioned that before?) and it was good. I mean, it was comparable to street food in any Little India anywhere in the world. It may have even been as good as real Indian food from India! I was very impressed. And the service on CP is as good as I remember. My dad can be a pretty surly old man sometimes and the flight attendants accommodated his every grunted request for water and a newspaper.

In the absence of familia drama, I have discovered a new source of anxiety. How will I manage to travel in India on my own when my parents are gone? Sometimes I doubt that I will come here when there is no longer anyone left to visit. But worse, what happens when my parents want to travel here and I have to be the responsible one? The one who arranges for a driver to pick us up a the airport, instructs the cook and housekeeper, orders the water and makes sure the flat is livable? I am having to do some of that already because my dad is approaching 70 and apparently just barely manages to muddle through these things now. Even finding the keys to the locker at the bank took a half hour phone call to my mother and an extensive search of all of the locked cupboards in the bedrooms. Sigh. I can't worry about that now but I'm going to have to learn the language at some point. And make some of my own connections so that I'm not completely at a loss when I do have to be the grown up.

Okay, must go respond to C le V's emails before my dad gets up.