Chuha Part II

Immediately after writing my last post, I went into the kitchen for some water before going to sleep...and found the mouse in the sink. We held a 10-minute stand-off, I using my most powerful weapon - a bucket - and he using his - a striking resemblance to lovable fictional characters.  I finally managed to get him into the bucket, which I placed on the counter while frantically looking for something to cover it with. And in that brief span of time, the mouse managed to catapult himself over the edge of this 18-in. prison and into freedom. Frustrated and exhausted, I set the trap again with sturdier bait and went to bed.

This time, it worked! The next morning, my new frenemy was huddled in the corner of the cage. I was already late to work, so I didn't have time to deal with him. The bread and peanut butter were still in the cage, so I figured he'd be fine until my roommates and I got back from work. And so I ended up with a pet mouse for about 12 hours. A pet mouse who left behind his weight in droppings when my roommate and I finally set him free far, far, far from our house that evening.

Photo of Fievel from here. 

Hindi Word Highlight: Chuha (चूहा)

Translation: Mouse (rat, technically, I think)
Pronunciation: choohaa, or, from time to time, #*$%ing @#*$^&

This is one of the reasons I've been a little MIA this week - a couple of little chuhas seem to be making my home their home. Rather than spending some QT with Blogger this evening, as planned, I spent an hour with a broom and a bucket trying to get a chuha out of my roommate's bedroom. I'm happy to report that we were successful! A little too successful, actually...my roommate's enthusiastic bucket maneuvering accidentally resulted in the untimely demise of our uninvited guest. We did the right thing, though, holding a little 3-person funeral procession that ended in chuha-ji being laid to rest in a pile of trash by the park in our neighborhood.

On the bright side, my search for mousetraps this afternoon led me to a neighborhood near mine that I'd never been to before. And I do love an adventure! I ended up on a bustling street filled with all sorts of shops and people. I must have gone to at least seven stores - the general stores sent me to the hardware stores, who sent me back to the general stores - before I found a kitchen supply store (makes sense, doesn't it?) with a humane trap that I bought for $1.50.

Unfortunately, about a half hour ago I discovered that the peanut butter and bread bait has been removed from the trap without triggering the cage mechanism. Uuuuuuugh. Time for bed. With my bedroom door tightly closed, lest we have a repeat of this evening's bucket and broom battle. 

Mildew?

I just don't see "mild dew" soap going over well in most markets. 

Bollywood Hair

I took the plunge today and got my hair cut in Delhi. To hear the expats tell it, you might as well wait until you're back in your home country to get a hair cut, so I didn't have high hopes. On a tip from a Delhiite former roommate, though, I found a salon near my office and booked an appointment. 

I arrived a little early and was ushered right in. With sleek furniture, fancy lighting, and black-clad stylists, the salon was quite snazzy. After having my hair washed, I was offered my choice of beverage and then sat down for the actual cut. Now, I'm not the chatting type when I'm getting my hair done. I like to sit there quietly and watch other people in the mirror. To my great delight, after my hair stylist said hello and asked me what I wanted, he didn't say a single word to me. It was perfect. 

After expertly trimming my split ends, the stylist called over his assistant to dry my hair. When it was mostly dry, the stylist came back and I assumed he'd be taking over hair dryer duties. But no. Drying my hair became a team effort. The stylist used a brush and his hands to shape my hair while the assistant directed the air flow, occasionally hitting the target. I can't say it was the most efficient process, but it resulted in a style the likes of which my hair has never seen. 

Alas, I don't have a photo of the end product. By the time I got home, the auto ride and humidity had done too much damage to my 'do. But basically, I looked like this:

Just like that.

[Photo of Bollywood uber-star Priyanka Chopra from here.]

Hindi Word Highlight: Gulabi (गुलाबी)

Translation: Pink
Pronunciation: gulaabee

This is the color of every wall in my house.

That is all.

Mocha

On Sunday, my roommate C and I spent the afternoon at one of the markets close to our neighborhood. GK-1 M block market is a shopping center with an assortment of clothing and home goods stores, salons, restaurants and coffee shops. After perusing a lovely book store with no obvious order to its stock (and where I bought a Daniel Silva book - hi Dad), we window shopped, bought some groceries, and stopped in at my favorite cafe. Mocha is everything I love in a coffee shop - fun music, mismatched furniture, good drinks. It's like Open Eye without the cranky hipsters.

Indoor swings!

Mocha is a peaceful respite from the sensory overload that is Delhi. If you happen to stop by, I recommend the milkshakes and the Maggi noodles with garlic cream sauce. It's like Ramen with Alfredo sauce and I swear it's delicious :-) 

Rub a dub dub

This is my shower on at full blast.

Don't see any water?

That's because there isn't any.

On several occasions during my brief tenure as a Delhi resident, we have run out of water. Something about the city working on the pipes in the neighborhood. As it is, we get water service twice a day. At the appropriate hour(s), my upstairs neighbor turns on our building's water pump, allowing us to store water in tanks (somewhere, maybe the roof?). That's the water we use over the course of a day. Normally it's not a problem, but the once-a-day supply doesn't cut it.

On the upside, I've learned certain lessons about cultural differences. When I told a coworker that I'd run out of water halfway through a shower one morning, she looked at me confused. "You don't just fill a bucket?" Apparently I was doing two weird things: a) assuming water would be available most of the time because I live in a normal middle-class neighborhood and b) showering American style.

It's difficult to learn the intimate details of appropriate bathroom customs in foreign countries. No one is going to show another adult how to use that hose that's affixed to the wall next to the toilet. Nor are they going to demonstrate proper use of an Indian squat toilet (Seriously, like, how do you not have to take off your pants? I don't get it.). The same goes for bathing - since you don't see anyone else do it, you don't know what's normal.

Luckily, when it comes to bucket baths, the internet is full of advice. Some of it is bad (stand in the bucket) and some of it is good (stand over a drain). There's a bucket, along with the smaller pitcher for pouring the water, in my bathroom, but it had never even occurred to me to use it when there was a "normal" shower available. And I still don't know what a typical Indian girl would do with my bathroom set-up on a good day when the option of an American shower is a reality. Bucket or nozzle? Until I make some close Delhi-native friends that I can ask, I guess I'll just have to wonder.