MIDDLE INDIA 1
I Said It Would Be An Adventure
And I wasn’t wrong
Oi (Oztraylian for oi look at me) you lot — I have things to tell you — going back a few months Buggalugs was approached about a job overseas — at that time, we were just about to head off in the van, around Oztraylia (how we pronounce Australia with that fantastic Aussie twang). Always up for something out of left field, and after a quick discussion, we decided to do that giant leap and have an overseas adventure instead of “doing the lap” (Oztraylian for travelling around Australia). Being the case, it was out of retirement for Buggalugs, I shut my small business down (The Tasty Date, if you are interested) and we left Oztraylia for a two year contract in MIDDLE INDIA. Well more like South East if you slam your arrow in the centre of the country.
It’s been extremely taxing and hectic with dad suddenly getting ill and passing away — all the while getting the house packed up, ready for tenants, all the immunisations you need — the list goes on — but we got there. If anyone is interested, in my shovel hiding, you can find me on Instagram at #spottheshovel (a travel shovel has been purchased and ready to go). It’s yellow and shiny, so easy to spot. I will once again be jojonofriends and have to stalk some locals who drink coffee — stay safe everyone — and grab that life by the short and curlies (spell checker is suggesting curries — too funny) and enjoy. Here we go….
The journey there
After a very long, and sometimes stressful process, it has happened — we have just landed in Singapore and head to Delhi in a few hours — will have another internal flight tomorrow and then a 7 hour drive to get to our home for the next two years — Middle India (my pet name), located in the Odisha/Orissa area. As mentioned, Buggalugs has put his retirement on hold, time to get back to work and earn a quid (Oztraylian for money, dosh, cash). Heading off around OZ will come once we return, of which I am sure, we will thoroughly enjoy.
I wonder if I will last the 2 years — checking in on our internal flight from Delhi to Middle India was amusing — the usual warnings — no batteries, exploding cans but also, please remember, no COCONUTS on planes (too weird to even ask) — 2 days of travelling ending with a 7-hour drive from the airport.
The township
There was a huge amount of fluff and fuss on our arrival — a welcoming committee waiting with open arms to present us with flowers and greeting smiles. We are currently in a guest house, awaiting our villa, which is being cleaned and lightly renovated. In this company township we have two small shops — both are the size of a one car garage and both with a good old roller door. Going forth, you will see I refer to these as my cupboard shop and the Cheesy/Milkman. The Cheesy/Milkman sells bread, ice creams, milk, cheese, soft drinks, and yogurts — generally refrigerated items (hence the Cheesy/Milkman).
The other cupboard has pantry and household items — washing powder, pasta, biscuits, and general grocery bits and he is just my Cupboard Shop man. They seem to open haphazardly, with the timings stating 8am to 12pm then 5pm to 8pm — but I say haphazardly as no-one seems to go by the timings. When they are supposed to open they are shut and vice-versa.
Being unfamiliar with the goings on around this place, I was on a mission to get out there, get involved and meet people. But it seems everyone goes to the beat of their own drum — all good — I can adapt, but have to say it has been a very weird and wonderful learning curve.
Apparently, there was going to be an Indian Festival on the Tuesday of our first week, which many celebrate, and take the day off — so being the good Girl Scout I decided to be prepared. On Monday, I thought I would walk down to our luxurious Constellation Market Square (our shopping precinct) — literally a 5 minute wander — and grab some supplies for our room.
We do get meals at the guest house but just need milk — coffee — crackers, snacky bits. Well, Monday the Cupboard Shop was shut but the Cheesy/Milkman was open. Grabbed what I could from him. I also found out there was a Veggie Shed, around the back of our super-duper shopping precinct, to which I scuttled, in excitement, to see what delicious fresh fruit and veggies they have on offer. It is a pretty sad looking room with just the basic, local produce, pretty grubby, lots of bugs, dead and alive, but a very friendly Veggie boy. He has a bit of fruit but it’s very much hit and miss. No bananas, damn. We had been advised to get something you can peel to eat, so it was bananas on my radar — no luck today.
Even though Tuesday was festival day I had been told the cupboard shops should be open — so once again, I decided to wander down to see if I could manage a fist pump moment, see anyone to say hello to or generally interact with a another living soul. No luck in all aspects— everything was shut and not a soul in sight — Wednesday, I went down again, still both shut, so now up to day 4, I have no idea what is going on and have no idea how or where to find these details out. The language barrier is proving difficult. I will go down again after 6 tonight — fingers crossed I might have some luck. Nope.
The guest house
Whilst the meals are included while we are staying at the guest house, and that is really good, sometimes you just want something light in your room — like just a bit of fruit, cheese and crackers. They tend to keep wanting to feed you in the dining room, and as much as you try and relay you’ve had enough, they keep bringing out plates and plates of food. All being hot curry.
Not having much luck finding some room goodies I decided to go and ask the dining hall boss (English speaking), if I could just have a couple of boiled eggs for lunch. Just 2 boiled eggs for 12 midday, with some salt and pepper — in my room (or I can pop down and grab them). No, all good they will bring them up — he confirms “so you want 4 eggs?” “No, only 2 please, hard boiled” holding up 2 fingers. Again he asked “Four?” and again I say “No, it will be 4 halves but just 2 eggs”. This could be where it turned pear shaped — he nodded and he asked “12”, “yes please that will be lovely” and I headed back upstairs.
As it happened I got a call, from a friend, on messenger, and had the room door ajar so I could see if anyone arrived with my round protein balls of goodness — nothing like a good boiled egg to sort lunch. We were talking for quite a while and mentioned “Crikey (Oztraylian for surprise) I asked for 2 eggs for 12 it’s now 12.45, I wonder what has happened” and explained I was waiting for 2 cooked googs (Oztraylian for egg) and relaying that last time eggs came up they were on a plate — cut in half, covered in alfoil. Within a few minutes a bloke turned up — “Hi, ma’am here’s your eggs”. I thanked him, but at the same time was thinking, that’s odd they are in a small plastic bag. Glancing in the bag — I was giggling, as after just telling my friend, about the egg plate and how I had requested 2 boiled eggs I preceded to pull out 4 eggs— felt just like a magician. Just needed the hat and the wand and I would be set.
Feeling like I could have “eaten the crotch out of a low flying duck” (Oztraylian for it’s what a hungry crocodile does — leaps out of the water to catch that low flying duck) I was a bit peckish, I decided to go ahead and peel one while I’m chatting — “eat and chat” I can do that. Placing my beautiful, paper napkin on the desk I started breaking the shell. I’m not sure where things had gone wrong but you guessed it, it was RAW — it ran all over the desk — i just can’t fathom how this has got so muddled up — it’s not like I can cook anything in the room — could use the kettle I suppose but what on earth was I going to do with 4 raw eggs — and why would anyone ask for 4 uncooked eggs — it befuddles me.
So between my friend thinking it was hilarious — I had egg going everywhere and am now the lucky owner of 3 raw eggs. Language barriers can cause so many hiccups or more like “so many raw eggs”. If I return them to the kitchen it will cause much confusion. Things can get difficult — it’s all little things, but when it’s day after day it becomes extremely exhausting.
Several things had already caused me to go “you know what, it’s just too hard — forget that idea”. Sometimes just putting the idea back on the shelf is sanity saving.
It’s only the beginning
I spend my time walking around the township, hoping someone may say “Hello”. I say “Good Morning” to everyone — some reply, some ignore — so be it — but some days you just want to scream and have a pity party; lack of communication makes things very lonely. It’s just the beginning — it will get better — bloody famous last words those are!
I hope I have the strength to do this — it’s not what I was expecting at all but like I said — it will be an adventure.
