HIS/HERS

Well, I think that Chesa and I were mistakenly married (or at least treated as a married couple, but saying we were mistakenly married makes the story sound more interesting) yesterday in a small temple of Krishna’s older brother in one of the seven holy cities in India—Mathura. Upon entering the temple we were instructed to sit down before a deity of sorts, hold a flag together, offer some prayer in Hindi (I was repeating after the priest, hope I didn’t say anything offensive), and were painted with red dots. My understanding is that the red dots are usually reserved for married women...

In any case, it seems fitting. From day one, Chesa and I have taken the his/hers approach to this trip. I ran down from my apartment running a little late (we’re surprised) to head off to the airport in Kunming wearing a black shirt, a blue jacket, with a blue backpack, and with a “messenger bag.” Chesa was the same except in red. Coincidence, you’d think, but then we keep on matching it seems.

It came to a head today when we had matching his/hers doctors visits. Last night in Agra (the city of the Taj Mahal) Chesa and I stopped for sweets after dinner. She got milk-based sweets, I got some other spicier sweets. She woke up in the middle of the night vomiting and with bowels arunning. We were a bit skeptical of medical treatment in Agra, as a scheme was (is?) prominent whereby restaurants intentionally give food poisoning to clients in order to send them to doctors who in turn charge exorbitant prices to their insurance agencies. Chesa, thus, sucked it up and went out for a tour of the Taj this morning (managed not to puke on the actual thing, though did do it right outside) because, hey, it’s not every morning you have one of the seven wonders of the world right in your backyard! And really, that building was just inspiring enough to make the vomit stay down.

After a few more bouts, including a nasty one on the way to Jaipur (the capital of Rajhistan where we are now) leaning out of the car window and having it splatter back in her hair, we decided a trip to the doctor was necessary. I, although not suffering from food poisoning, was starting to get an ear ache. I was sick for the last week and a half I was in Kunming, fighting with a nasty bug my friend had kindly imported from the US for me. My lymph nodes were totally swollen, but after a round of antibiotics, I seemed in good enough condition to fly. But now, I’m swelling back up, and it’s headed in the direction of my ears. Not wanting an ear infection, we decided we’d make a trip to the doctor together.

Let me tell you, everything that you’ve heard about Indian healthcare is true. It’s cheap and above par. No IVs for me, so take that all you stuck in Chinese hospitals! A quick check revealed that I indeed have tonsillitis, and am now on round two of antibiotics, stronger than the first. Hopefully this will go away, and Chesa’s new medicine will get her back on track, and we’ll get to enjoying this beautiful place!

And now, since I’m long overdue for something like this, India by the numbers:

4- Number of times I was offered drugs in the seedy area of Delhi (NOTE: this seemed surprisingly low)

7- Number of times Chesa threw up today (maybe eight as I’ve been at the Internet Café for a while now).

3.94- The level (in PPM) of sulfur dioxide in the air around the Taj Mahal today.

14- The number of children that Mumtaz Mahal, the Persian queen for whom the Taj was built as a mausoleum, had. (NOTE: She died while having the fourteenth)

3- The number of weddings going on within view of our hotel this evening.

60- The cost (in Rupees, equivalent to about US$1.50) of my visit to the doctor (take that all you stuck in American hospitals!) this evening.