A Trip to the Spa!

So, in preparation for my third (and final) wedding reception my MIL (Seema) asked if I would like to go to the spa to get a facial and what have you.

Of course I would.

So my SIL (Poonam) and MIL arranged a spa date for me.  Poonam was initially going to come but Taisha was sick, so Poonam couldn't join.  They asked if I would be ok going by myself.  I had one question: Do they speak English?  I was told that they did, so I had no problem going alone.

On the car ride there I was wondering what the sterilization techniques would be.  What about nail fungus?  What do I do if I get there and the sterilization isn't what I'm used to?  Its a Spa, they must have some sort of sterilization.

So we walk in, its a small, but clean spa.  I quickly notice the UV sterilizer on a desk near the back! Awesome. Excellent.  Time to relax.

They discussed what to do with my MIL and I just sat back and waited since I had no idea what was going on.... they got it all hashed out and off my MIL went.

First up: Pedicure.

Not quite the pedicure we're used to in the US, but I enjoyed its charm.  They just fill nice warm water into a large bowl and in your feet go.  Within 2-3 minutes I established that the lady doing my pedicure didn't speak much english, but lets be honest...anyone who has gotten a mani/pedi at a nail spa in the US is used to not being able to communicate with the technician...

After the nice foot soak comes the tools.  Out of a chaotic drawer.  When she is done, they go back in the chaotic drawer.  Obviously that UV sterilizer isn't used quite as often as I would hope.  But its too late to turn back now.  Cheers to no nail fungus!

I will say, it was one of the more thorough pedicures I have ever had.  In the US nail salons, I feel like they have a schedule.  Clip cuticles for x minutes, slough dead skin for x minutes, rub the calves with both hands for 5 strokes, rub the arches for 3 strokes and so on and so on.   I did not get one ounce of that feeling here.  One of the longest foot/leg massages I have ever had as part of a pedicure.  It was so enjoyable I was thinking about a nap.

So after I'm all clipped and massaged up, the lady realizes she's out of some cream that she needs, so she asks someone else to get her more so she can re-fill it.  (Ok, this conversation happened entirely in Hindi or Punjabi, but that is what I assume they said based on my visual observations of the situation).

You know what that UV sterilizer is for?  Storing creams and potions and lotions!  Who would have thought!

Now that the pedicure is over, I have to answer the same question about 15 times:

"You don't want face bleaching?"

Uh, do I look to you like I need face bleaching?  I think I'm the poster child for face bleaching.  Now, granted it has other benefits I suppose, evening skin tone and what not.  But let's be real.  There were ladies in there getting their hands and feet bleached...I don't think they were concerned about the uneven tone of their feet....

Anyway, as I'm sitting and waiting, in storms the owner.  (And by storms I mean that in the nicest way)  She just sort of came in a whirlwind of questions and instructions for the employees.  She said hi, and came over and immediately started studying and touching my face.  "Hmm, Dry skin. Ok, come with me"  Immediately I'm cheering "English!" "English!" YAAAYY

So she takes me back to the facial area, which is essentially a cubicle, whatever, and leaves me with two employees....and...we're back to no English.  So whatever, we use gestures and a few words to establish I'm supposed to take my shirt off and put on this gown thing.  Standard facial operating procedure.  So I gown up and hop on the table.  Back comes the owner.  Asks one final time if I want face bleaching.   I tell her I was born pre-bleached.  She laughs and says ok.

Onto that facial. 

 Remember how wonderful that foot massage was?  The facial massage was 10x better.  Now, it had its quirks too.  She'd put a cream on, and tell me to lay there for 15 minutes.  In the cubicle. Where you can hear everything else going on. But can understand none of it.  You're alone, but you're not alone, and you can't understand, and you can't see.  Sort of a super odd feeling.  Anyway.  After some of these incubation periods she comes and gave me the heaven's massage.  I swear, 20+ solid minutes of rubbing my face and upper chest, and ears, and once an areola.  I don't think I've ever had my ears rubbed.  It was fantastic.

Probably the most odd situation of all of this, was the fact that no one has any issues with cleaning out your ears.  Cream got in the ears? Water? Whatever it is, it's ok, they'll just stick their finger in and get it out.  This doesn't really bother me in theory, but I was completely unprepared.  Its sort of a rule I've gotten used to, you don't put your fingers in anyone else's orifices. I just let it happen...

Final Event: Hair Spa.

Translation: Hair Spa = Deep conditioning.

So after this wonderful facial. I have this conditioning done.  As I'm sitting here while some lady and some dude paint conditioner onto my hair section by section, I decide to try to ask some questions.  Maybe the dude knows more english?  So I ask:  "Do a lot of people bleach their skin?"  The two of them look at each other, then the guy goes "Skin?" to her, and she says it back.  Yep...No English.  So we all sit their awkwardly, I think and say "Do a lot of people bleach their face?"  That they got, and he said yes.  This was all going to lead into a conversation about how I think its so ironic that people in India bleach their faces, and use skin lightening creams, and caucasians in the US spend a shit ton of money, and risk cancer to tan their skin.  Obviously that conversation wasn't going to happen.  But I was still curious about this skin bleaching.

So then I asked "Do men bleach their face?"  The guy processes for a minute, then says "Mens?" And confirmed that men do it too.  We then established that it burns/hurts.  I think we were both exhausted after that much/little conversation so we decided we were done talking.


Note: I might have been a bit over dramatic.  They probably know more english than I could realize.  But I'm sure my accent and phrasing threw them off.  I don't think they were comfortable using English, but they knew enough to give me the instructions I needed.  There was one lady (besides the owner) that knew the most, so I'd always try to shoot her a look if I needed instructions.

India 2012: Take Two

So, Gaurav and I made our return trip to India from Nov 3 - Nov 21.  Now that I'm home and trying to avoid work, I can blog a bit more about some of my experiences in India!

Enjoy!

Who's coming in November!

On Wednesday, Nishu (Gaurav's Bro) took us around to look at the locations for everyone to stay when they come in November....Who's in let us know!

First stop was this cute little resort thing.  It easily was my favorite, although its not likely to be big enough depending on how many people are coming.  It isn't in Chandigarh, its a little more rural.  I swear, driving through the farmland I easily could have been in Illinois.  There isn't too much trash out in the middle of nowhere, its just fields. Really, could have been in Illinois.

After this one we checked out a couple of hotels. One was called the Lemon Tree or something.  I swear the must pump this god-awful super fake lemon smell into the hotel. (In hindsight Gaurav wondered if it was to keep the flies away.)  The hotel wasn't bad, but no one could tolerate that smell for a week.  Probably gives you cancer.

Overall the hotels are quite a bit different from the US.  I'd even venture to say they are dirty.  Not in a dust and trash all over kind of way.  But some of the chairs had stains, the carpets were not commercial grade carpet so they had track marks and were just really dirty overall.  Or you'll be walking around and there will be gross icky paan spit on the stairway. Here's a link to what it is http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paan  (Actually I figured it was sort of like an amped up chewing tobacco, apparently its way worse. Even the kind without tobacco makes your cancer risk shoot up.)

It just was a little different I suppose. In US hotels everything is generally pretty pristine. You might call down if your drinking glass had a spot on it, or your towel wasn't folded correctly in fear that it wasn't clean. So stains on the carpet and what not were a little different for me.  Made me feel a bit snobbish, but you certainly get used to things being a certain way.

We did stop by a marriott, which actually might have been nicer than the Marriotts I have stayed in in the US. And I think my last 4 hotel stays were Marriotts. The Indian marriott was also 3x more expensive than the other hotels!

We did a little more shopping afterword. We had to go home from the last store empty handed because the power was out, so they couldn't accept Gaurav's credit card.... 

Power goes out in India: No one even reacts, not even a little

Power goes out in US: Everyone freaks out and runs around and worries if there is a fire, or a tornado, or a terrorist attack.  Everyone HAS to know "what happened"

As usual, I came home and passed out.  Gaurav came and got me to say hi as Manik stopped by again, and so did Aman, another guy Gaurav works with.  I woke up, said hi.  Got bored of not understanding any conversation and went back to bed.

Gaurav tells me that Aman had a little too much to drink and then tried to give himself cancer with Paan...and ended up puking in the potted plants out front.  I was in bed long before this.

It wears the gloves before it touches the tablets.

So, on the way home from the dinner Monday evening, after “sharing”  a few glasses of Whiskey with gaurav’s uncle, I found out we were supposed to leave at 8:00 for Mukerian, the town where Gaurav’s dad grew up.  I bargained my way to an 8:30 departure time. In hindsight this was unnecessary, due to Indian time. I think we finally rolled out of town around 9 or 9:30.  

We shared the trip with the family friend who hosted the party the night before.  I’ll call him Uncle Chopra. 

He owns a pharmaceutical manufacturing plant near Mukerian, so Gaurav, Ravi, Uncle Chopra, his son and I all rode together. We’ll just say it was a little cozy in the back with three of us, but we managed.  We stopped by Uncle Chopra’s facility, got all bootied-shoe covered-hairnetted-and facemasked up and were given a tour.  That was pretty neat.  We were told we had to put on gloves if we wanted to handle the tablets.  As tempting as it was to dig my hands into a big box of random pills, I decided againstit. He’s all into using as much “Indian” stuff as possible, he gets all of his machinery made in India etc. Kind of like "buy American"...only...Indian.  They took us in and let us watch the whole operation, his daughter lives up there and runs the show for him. 

…You know how in the US most people would prefer their boss not come in and watch them?  I think in India it’s the complete opposite!  Anytime Uncle Chopra or his daughter walked into a room, all the employees stood up or stopped what they were doing (at least the employees that weren’t operating the machinery.)  Every time the boss comes in you get to take a break.  Instead of pretending to work hard, you actually get to stop everything you’re doing.  Pretty sweet deal!

So, they decided to stay behind at their facility for a while, so they arranged for a driver to take us the rest of the way to Gaurav’s relatives.  They have a really beautiful house, they used to run some sort of a grain processing plant or what not back in the day.  We had some more meet the family, two of Gaurav’s uncles live there.  I had met one before, because  they (aunt and uncle) had stayed with us for a few days in Chicago.  We also met his uncle that everyone calls Daddy.  He was older than the other siblings, and when their dad passed away he sort of filled those shoes. 

I had talked to Daddy on the phone before, and he invited me to his “village.”  He told me he couldn’t wait to see how I reacted to being in a village.  I found out they had a few cows there, so he promised that if I came to visit, I could meet and pet his cows.  I told him this was a deal.  So of course, when we showed up I was sure to collect on his part of the bargain.  He got some sugary type pellets stuff (I guess people eat it too), but apparently the cows love it.  He got a nice big bowl, and out we went to visit the cows.  He pointed one out and said she was an old lady.  When I asked him favorite he said that she was, then he looked around and pointed at another and said, this one too, then pointed to the next one and said “they’re all my favorite.”    Yep.  Me and Daddy could be friends!  I fed the cows, scratched some ears, happy girl.  He then took us for a little walk around the property, showed me their garden.  They had a peach tree, the peaches were about the size of a cherry tomato, but they were full grown.

He also let us take some pictures with his car from the 1930’s (I think), that was just a few years younger than he was.  It was in pretty awesome condition!  He also pointed out a huge tree in the back that was just a few years older than he was.

I have a hunch that everyone at this house knew about my extra special sleeping “talent” as everyone kept suggesting beds for me to sleep in, or asking if I was tired.  No one asked Gaurav or Ravi if they were tired and wanted to go to sleep.  This was pretty welcome, at least I didn’t feel like I had to sneak off to go take a nap.   I had myself a nice little nap for about an hour or so, once I woke up Uncle Chopra and his son were back,  eventually it was time to pack up for the 4 hours of back-seat-squishyness.  Its worth mentioning that not all the roads were paved on the way…so it was squished and bumpy.  But it was a good time.

Monday Monday....

Monday is a lot less depressing when you don't have to go to work.

Its Thursday now, so I can't remember all the small details, but I'll give it my best shot.

I'm sure I woke up at 6:30, I've woken up every day before 7am, but I'm still tired.  I think because I've been napping so much my body isn't quite sure what its supposed to be doing.

We decided that we wanted to go out and do some shopping.  Poonam decided to go with us and leave Taisha with a non-family member for one of the first times.  (Gaurav convinced Seema and Ravi that they should go to work, so they will have enough days off when we come in November).  We all agreed it was good practice, since she is planning to go back to work 3 days a week this fall.   Gaurav and I gave her a pretty hard time about being so worried and upset about it, but we know it was hard for her.  Indians put any American "Helicopter parent" to shame!

There were a lot of normal american/european stores, but since I can get that at home I wasn't really interested.  We wandered around, I bought some random trinkets and crap that I probably don't need but is pretty cool regardless.  There was a store that billed itself as "slightly naughty" or something to that level.  I'm thinking Victoria's Secret,. nope,more like Forever 21.  Now...really...with a billion people, how does this country manage to pretend to be so conservative...you're not fooling anyone.  Obviously there is tons of sex going on here....

We got the Indian equivalent of "garrett's" popcorn.  Obviously it wasn't the same, it was just regular popcorn.  But it was some of the best popcorn I ever ate.  It was also, seriously, like radioactive yellow in color.  I know I should be alarmed by this, but it was too good to care.

Shortly after we got the popcorn I had one of my more disturbing Indian experiences.  I was well aware that it existed, but I met my first begging child.  I'm sorry, you can't be ready for that.  Especially if it is something you never experienced.  Poonam shooed him away.  He was probably 5.  He wouldn't go, so eventually she handed him a handful of popcorn.  Of course, as you can expect that only makes it worse and he followed us for a store or two.  I know I had to ignore.  I don't have enough money or popcorn to feed the entire country's children...much less enough to feed even the begging children at the mall.  Its one of those things, you might want to help the one child you can, but the 30 others waiting will see and they'll all come and start begging. I guess you have to draw a line somewhere?  It was pretty distrubing.

After buying more crap, we knew there was a bar somewhere in the mall.  (its a larger outdoor mall....but don't picture outdoor malls in america.  Well...you can, but that's now how it looked).  There were no neon "bud light" signs in the window so it was a bit harder to find.  They were playing all american music, it looked just like a nicer bar that I'd be used to.  We had a drink and it was time to go. 

As we were getting to the car we were approached by more beggars.  A guy missing 1/2 of his arm and his child.  Again...the kids...sheesh...
BUT, as they were asking and asking. (Or what I assume is asking and asking because I can't understand).  Gaurav finally offered him one of the bags of popcorn we had gotten to bring home, so it was full.  He told Gaurav he didn't want it.
Just like the freaking bums in Chicago, they beg and say they are hungry, but when you offer them food they don't want it.  Makes it hard to feel sorry for them. Don't lie and tell me you're hungry if you're not.

So we meandered home.  Poonam actually did really well the whole trip, for as anxious as she said she was.  But she was certainly glad to go home to see Taisha.

On the way home Gaurav mentioned that we were going to go to his parents' friend's house for dinner.  I asked what time and Poonam just started laughing and said "there is no time, you just go when you want...but probably around 9-9:30" I can understand a culture that is maybe late for stuff...but how do you not have even a ballpark time to be somewhere.  Its like you just say 'come for dinner'...and people come whenever. (Worth noting, Indians eat dinner about the time Americans are thinking about breakfast.  Somewhere between 10 and midnight seems average)

So we go to their large, beautiful home.  (These people had come by on Sunday when the family was over so I had met them before).  They had arranged for a Dhol performer to come and play! He was accompanied by some random old guy who would periodically yell something that got everyone excited.  People also seem to wave dollars around everyone's head and then I think give them to the drummer.  I was so terribly exhausted I probably looked crabby and pissed off.  But it was really neat.  I just didn't have the energy to dance.  I just needed to sit an listen.  It seemed OK, it was mostly the dudes dancing together anyway.  I felt bad that I was such a party pooper, but I just. could. not. do it.  I was running on fumes already.  Apparently no one gets mad if their neighbors bang loud drums at late hours.  It was really nice of them to arrange the drummer for us, it was fun for everyone.  (The Dhol is the drum that Gaurav's friend Harish played for a little while at our wedding) 
We went back in and I got myself into a conversation about US healthcare with Gaurav's Uncle (Or whatever it is that I'm supposed to actually call him).  I sort of perked up during that and started sharing his Whiskey with him.  We ended up spending the rest of the night "sharing" the Whiskey.  The people who hosted the party were terribly nice.  It was a really good time.

We went home...and I passed out....

TGFF - Thank God For Facebook

So, after Gaurav's extended family found out that we would be in town, those who were able came by on Sunday for a party.

Let me just say, Thank God For Facebook.

Meeting a shit-ton of people you don't know is always "exciting"...now imagine if their first language is not your own, their culture is different, and you can only pronounce their names after practicing in a mirror for a week.  Facebook makes this 100x easier!  I've already been able to put faces to names (well, the pronunciation that I have made up on my own of these names)

The other really beneficial thing is that I made Gaurav list off his family tree a long time ago.  It just hung out in the back of my day-planner.  (Yes, I have an actual paper day planner, one that you write in with pens and pencils).  I would look at it periodically, or sometimes I would pull it out when I got a new facebook request.  As a general rule, if your last name is Jain, I would accept your friend request without having any idea who you were...

The other thing that helped make this a little less "exciting" was the receiving line after the Hindu ceremony.  I got to get used to that feet-touching thing that is reaaaaalllllyyy "different" if you didn't grow up doing it.  Gaurav's friend Kristen (Of Kristen and Harish) promised me that I'd get used to this.  She was right.  BUT the hardest part can be figuring out WHO you're supposed to do this do.  At first I thought it was anyone older than you, but its more like anyone a generation older than you.  So even if you have a cousin much older than you, it appears that this is a no-go.    So my strategy for this was to always hang back and be the last to say HI.  (This was pretty easy, since Gaurav hasn't seen his family in so long, he usually ran right up to greet them)....as I was waiting for my turn, I'd yank over some other family member that I had met all of 5 minutes ago and ask them who the new arrival was.

The other culturally different part of this is that, in the US you have "aunts" and you have "uncles" which are any collection of your parents brothers and sisters in their spouses.  In India, your maternal OLDER uncle has a different name than a maternal younger uncle, or a paternal older uncle, or paternal younger uncle.  You get the idea.

Now, I don't really know all the ins and outs of this, but I'm picking it up as I've met people over time.  But I don't know this well enough to remember it all on the fly.
So someone would say: "This is your..... Chachu"
I think to myself "Bless, you.  Now what was your name"

(I won't even get into the whole "cousins" that are sisters or brothers thing.)

The other thing that takes some time getting used to is that Gaurav's uncles, aunts cousins, whatever become MY uncles, cousins, aunts.  I would introduce my uncles as "Uncle Guy" "Aunt Mary Jane" etc...and then I would reasonably expect Gaurav to call them by their first name.  Its sort of like if you didn't know someone as a child, you don't really start calling them Aunt or Uncle as an adult.  Not so in India.

My new strategy is to see how long I can survive without calling anyone by any name.  Smile. Touch the Feet. Smile.

The one thing I am a pretty huge fan of is the "Uncle" "Auntie" thing.  Pretty much any family friend/anyone older than you who doesn't have some other "title" can be an Uncle or an Auntie.  I got familiar with this when I went to my friend's (Sree) wedding.  I asked her what her parents' names were and after standing in shock and awe at her mom's southern indian name, she smiled and just said "Just call her Auntie."  DONE.  You never have to remember any names.  This would be even sweeter if it applied to actual aunts and uncles.... I'll take what I can get.

Another thing about Indian get-togethers...they try to make you fat.  I had been in India all of 24 hours, after traveling for more than 24 hours and being on an adrenaline high.I was exhausted.  I didn't want to eat, I wanted to pass out.  But someone probably tried to suggest that I get something to eat or drink at least every 30 minutes.  And if I was eating, they try to shove more food on your plate.  Its like you have to "box out" your plate while you eat or else more food appears. I wish I had an indian relative around during girl scout cookie time.  I might feel less guilty if someone else is standing there telling me its ok.

At some point I must have looked like the walking dead because I was invited to "lay down for a rest."  I'm gathering quickly that most of the family doesn't know that "lucy" and "lay down for a rest" doesn't mean what you think it means.  I can have a 6 hour nap, and then sleep the entire night.  But, this might be in my favor, as people might not suggest that I sleep if they knew I wouldn't be back for half of a day.

This party started around 9am, and I can't remember exactly, but it ended somewhere between 9pm-11pm. There are multiple meals involved.  I feel like the  minute they put the food away, they bring it back out.  Thank God I was so tired, or I may have gained 15lbs in one day.

My computer tells me its 5:11pm central time, but I have no idea what time it is here.  I think somewhere around 3:45am here.  Normally I'm a champion at sleeping, due to a little "help" from mother nature.  Here I am sitting up.  I really have to find a way to save my boobs before I come back in november. I swear, no women must sleep on their stomachs here.

Anyway, Its technically wednesday morning here, and I am caught up through Sunday.  Hopefully I can get the trip finished before I come home.  I suppose 15 hours in an airplane on Friday might help finish up any loose ends.

More observations about India

So, here are some more general observations about India.

The driving:
   As much as the driving rules in India appear to be "optional," once I got used to riding on the other side of the road, it actually isn't that bad.  No one stays in their lane, bikes, horses, rikshaws, whatever...everyone shares.  But I think the reason this works is there is absolutely no road rage, no swerving, no aggressive driving of any kind.  Everyone lets everyone in, which seems to make it easier.  No one panics to merge, because its assumed that someone will let them in.  I honestly feel somewhat more comfortable here, the driving is a lot more relaxed, despite the initial feeling of complete chaos.

     Child seats are not used here.  This sort of made both me and Gaurav nervous.  We were driving down the street and there was a little baby hanging out the open window of one of the TukTuk's (Auto Rickshaw...three wheeled car)  I feel like that can't be safe, but I suppose they know what they are doing.

The 'security' detail:
     So, if I thought I was alarmed by they airport security with the assault rifles, imagine how surprised I was when we showed up at Nishu's bank and the door guard also has an assault rifle.  Everything here has a security guard.  Banks, stores, his parent's neighborhood.  The funny thing about this is that I guess the crime isn't that bad.  We were walking around the previously mentioned "lake"....and I was asking Ravi about the crime here.  He said the biggest crime is political corruption.  Followed by...rape.  But for the most part, things seem pretty safe here in Chandigarh.  I guess all the security detail is to keep it that way!

I get stared at.... A Lot.  I think this would happen a lot less if I was with a big group of white people.  I think a lot of the stares come from people trying to figure out the dynamic.

India has tons of gays:
    Ok, not really...well I mean, I guess I have no idea.  But because there is nothing wrong with two guys riding on scooters and motorcycles together, if you saw it in the US you'd think there were a ton of gay guys around.  Its also completely acceptable for two males to hold hands as they walk down the street, like...two straight guys.

Loitering People:
     There are just people everywhere, just hanging out.  Both me and Gaurav mentioned that it makes us both a little nervous. (Probably me more so than him, but he at least noticed it).  If there were groups of people loitering around in Chicago you would probably think they were selling drugs, or going to mug someone. People don't just hang out under trees on the sidewalk for fun.  There are just people everywhere.  Sleeping in the median of the road, wherever.  Nishu even took us to see the very expensive homes in Chandigarh, and even outside their homes was a woman just sleeping on the sidewalk.  I guess if you're tired you just lay down!  I might fit in well here!

The other really odd thing is that there is no transition.  Gaurav's parents live in a very nice neighborhood, surrounded by a few other nice neighborhoods...but on one side it butts up to a "slum"  There is no transition from one type of a neighborhood to another.  That would be like crossing the street from lincoln park and being in the back of the yards in Chicago.  I'm not really used to that amount of difference from one second to the other.

I'm going to come home with flat boobs.
     I knew the beds would be firm here, because when Gaurav's parents come to stay with us his dad likes to sleep on a thin futon mattress on the floor.  The bed is firm, but it wasn't bad.  Until I tried to flip over and sleep on my stomach as I normally do.  Well...since there is no give there's no where for my boobs to go except to be smashed back into my chest.  It was really uncomfortable.  All the women must sleep on their backs here.  I can go ahead and sleep on my back, but when I sleep on my back I snore...and wake myself up fairly often doing so.

Everyone here keeps complaining that it is so hot.  But I think its wonderful.  Its a nice dry heat, none of that sweaty-humidity-heat stuff.  I also haven't experienced any ridiculous amount of bugs.  I think I got bit a few times at the lake, but not like you would if you were in your backyard in Illinois in August.  So actually not that bad.

I guess I was a bit surprised at the amount of garbage laying around.  I was aware of this phenomenon (thanks Srividya!), but I guess I expected it to be more concentrated on the busy streets, or maybe in the poorer neighborhoods.  But really...its...everywhere.  It doesn't smell or anything, its just...around.

Its really dusty here.  I was aware of this, but I couldn't exactly figure out why.  For I while I thought it was because there were no curbs, but there were nice wonderful curbs in Chandigarh at the lake we went to.  (The lake was almost dried up).  Me and Gaurav decided it was because there isn't much grass here, so the dust just gets to blow around or is carried around.  Gaurav pointed out some of it is probably because of the people, there was a tuktuk just parked along the side of the road in the dirt, so it would then take off and spray and carry dust with it.  People also will walk through the dust.  Both of our eyes have been itching a lot. I think we aren't used to it.

--I suppose its time for bed.