I am Not a Drunk?

Back in our early months in Delhi Hubby and I used to occasionally go to a bar called Punjabi by Nature in Basant Lok. We weren’t there so often that we could be mistaken for Norm of Cheers fame, but one or three times a month, we could be found on the 2nd floor of Punjabi enjoying a couple of mint chutney dusted papad and a drink or two. It wasn’t the best bar in town, but it did have a really good happy hour: two for the price of one until 8 o’clock. And they let you place drink orders at 7:59 to get you through the night. They were good people.

Some of you may remember that back in December I blogged about the odd thing that happened in early in the month when Hubby and I stopped in with our friend the Prez. As we wandered off the elevator and toward our usual bar of comfy couches, the waiter came up and greeted us warmly. He then offered to bring me my usual, “Sex on the Beach for Madame?” I honestly didn’t think we were there that much.

Fast-forward several months. Letter and the Duke (who are now cutely and happily engaged!) have introduced us to The Vodka Bar, Aura. Our first trip there, Letter and I discovered the yummiest drink known to man: the Pink Cucumber. Or, as we liked to call it, The Spa Drink. They swore there was alcohol in there but I’m not sure I ever believed them.

Again, we weren’t there so often that we had names engraved in a table but Hubby and I had been known to wander over the bar and have a couple of drinks and dim sum followed by dinner at the Chinese restaurant in the same hotel. A yummy way to spend an evening any way you slice it.

About a month or so before we left, the Delhi Gang (Hubby and I, Letter, Duke, Jewels, the Baronet, the Prez, Birdie, and a few others) found ourselves the Vodka Bar for reasons that I’m certain were along the lines of “it’s a Thursday.” Anyways, Hubby and I were, oddly enough, not the first to arrive for a change and as we sat down the waiter handed Hubby a drink menu and then turned to me, “A Pink Cucumber again Madame?’ Ok, so that is the drink I wanted. But that was hardly the point! I wasn’t there so much that they should know my drink. Was I?

It was a little known fact amongst our friends in Delhi that Hubby and I developed a taste for Sunday brunch around February of this year. See, what you, my Dearest Friends and Devoted Readers, may not have been cognizant of was that we loved sneaking off around 12:30ish on a Sunday and heading off to one of the 5-stars for the All You Can Drink Champagne brunch. We would then eat, drink, and them come home to pass-out content in the knowledge that we had used our weekend time well. You did know? And here I thought our Sunday binges were such a well-kept secret.

Our favorite of these, and honestly the best deal in town, was the brunch at the Metropolitan Niko: all you can eat sushi and tempura with not half bad sparkling wine thrown in for a mere 1500 Rupees. (If you didn’t want to drink it was 1300Rps. So why not drink?!) We even took BBS there when honored us with a visit in April. Good times.

Our final visit there, Jewels and her Hubby, the Baronet, joined us in one of the private dining rooms. As we seated ourselves the waiter saw us and smiled. He then brought over the ice filled wine bucket and opened a bottle of bubbly for us. It was like he knew. When we questioned him on it he said he remembered because whenever we were there we always the first in our group and always wanted to start drinking when we arrived. Oh. Well in that case…

Which brings us to last night here in Nairobi. The Prison Campus is full serve: tennis courts, a swimming pool… a bar. While I’ve passed by the first two on my way the canteen for lunch, I’ve actually visited the latter on purpose. Go figure, huh? Now, Hubby and I aren’t there everyday. Every Friday they have a BBQ night and we’ll maybe show up one other time during the week just to make sure that the bartender is doing his job. Turns out he is.

As Hubby and I walked into the Bar last night, Patrick smiled and waved. I then claimed seats for us while Hubby went to place our order. As luck would have it, he needn’t have bothered: sitting on the bar top were two glasses and a bottle of Black Ice for me, and Tusker for Hubby. Patrick remembered our drinks. I rationalized it by assuming that the campus isn’t really that big and that Patrick has a really good memory.

So what’s the deal? Am I drunk? Or am I just so wonderful and memorable that waiters all over the world recognize me after only one or two visits? (Please let it be number two!)

Scenic Prisons of the African East

I realize that some of you (*cough* Mum *cough*) feel that I’ve been a bit of a hater about Kenya and our life here. While I’m not admitting to total Hater status (that right is reserved for Hubby), I do realize that I haven’t shared a lot of the nicer aspects of the prison… err… campus on which we now temporarily live. It really is quite a pretty place to be stuck, if the truth were to be known.

Take for example the exquisite and lushly landscaped grounds. I could honestly show you a hundred photos and still not cover all the wildlife, flora and fauna to be found. Everything from trees, flowers and even cacti are used lavishly throughout the grounds. Our neighbors across the scary fences get cool landscaping benefits from living next door to the Campus too.

Isn't this the coolest tree?!

Doesn’t this plant look like it’s about to attack someone? I mean if Poison Ivy were around, she’d love this thing and make it the center of her evil plant family. Maybe use it to maim innocent by-standers who tried to hurt her precious vegetation. (Ahh, the great joining of super villains, their modus operandi and random blogging. What could be better?!)

Heck even some of the architecture isn’t bad. Archways and window frames sheltered by local greenery are the rather pretty and scenic norm. Many of the buildings almost seem to have been designed to fit into the hilly scenery rather than the other way around. The whole effect is really rather easy on the eyes.

Well that’s not entirely true. The campus is picturesque as long as you avoid the Crayola orange brilliance of the Potato People’s building. Potato People, BTW, are like Pod People but more potatoe-y. Oh, and they have their own PP research center here on the campus.

Ok now for my favorite part! (Dad, you’re going to love this when you come visit.) We have these giant birds that hang out around the back of the campus. I’m positive that they’re somehow related to carrion birds like the vulture. Their wingspan is simply amazing. And if you get up close enough, you can hear their freakishly weird almost Moo-like song.

See! Not everything about Maximum Security Prison Nairobi is bad. Hubby and I take nice leisurely walks around the campus and are now enjoying the outdoors-loving side of us we never knew existed. It almost makes us want to get plants and greenery for our as yet unselected apartment.

Don’t worry, gardening Devoted Readers, we likely won’t actually do it. After all, my black thumb has killed one too many plants… Although a new country, a new beginning. A new string a dead…err… alive and kicking plants?

PS: Do any of you know what type of bird this actually is? Really Big Mooing Bird just doesn't sound quite scientific to me.

And the Heat Goes On…

As I type this, my taste buds are still attempting to recover from this evening’s See-Through-Time taco dinner. Don’t get me wrong, what I was able to eat of it was tres yummy, but dang did somebody who shall remain nameless (Hubby!) spice that stuff up to nuclear levels. Using local ingredients is all well and good, but next taco night, I’d like to be able to taste something beyond the heat of 9-alarm fire.

Which isn’t to say I didn’t enjoy it, because I did. Heck, with only one exception, we never had good Mexican food in Delhi so this is quite a nice treat. Here were able to buy tortillas, sour cream and even create what may well have been a yummy meat filling. (What little was left my taste buds after dinner couldn’t recall any distinct flavor past ACK SPICY!)

Tomorrow night’s dinner of pasta with fennel and salami will be heavy on the flavor-meter and, in deference to my battered buds, light on the heat factor. And, maybe if I'm feeling generous a good bottle of wine will be opened to mark the occassion... for flavour purposes only to be sure. Slainte!

PS: Can you believe that I’m actually blogging about cooking rather than take out? Me neither!

Mosquito Redux

It is well onto the middle of the night and at the corner of my mind where consciousness and dreams collide I hear it. Bzzzzzz. Even half asleep I know the Evil that sounds heralds. Bzzzzzz. I shoot straight up and start waiving my arms like a mad woman. The noise dissipates and while I know I haven’t killed the Evil, I lay my head back on the unfluffy pillow content in the knowledge that I have conquered it at least for this one sleepy evening.

Bzzzzz. God dammit! Didn’t you read the previous paragraph? I was supposed to conquer you!? *sob* Go away!!

That’s right the mosquitoes are back. Evidently their relatives in Delhi emailed them to tell them I was on my way; evil little buggers! I hate mosquitoes. I realize that I’ve said I hate a lot of things of late but this time I mean it most sincerely. They are Evil. I’m pretty sure that Satan keeps them as pets and dotes on them the way some people lavish love upon their dogs. Evil I tell you.

“Do you hear that buzzing noise?” I wake my sleeping husband up to query. After a glare I can feel even through the darkness of the night he mutters that he heard nothing and I should get back to sleep. Fine! Be that way! The rational part of my mind points out that it was my sleep-deprived decision not to sleep under the mosquito net tonight. “But they make me claustrophobic,” I counter.

Bzzzzzz. ARGH! I pull the mosquito net safely around my prone form and laugh silently and manically at the buzzing going on outside of my safety net. “Tell your Master that tonight’s dinner is cancelled!” I crow to what I’m sure is a now defeated Evil Minion.

“Hey, sweetie,” I hear Hubby whisper. “I hear that buzzing now.”

Evil cronies of Satan they may be. And Hubby may have been their second or third choice of meal. But knowing that the Evil Ones too woke him too? That my dears, is truly priceless.

A Different Kind of Homesick

You know what I miss most about living in the Midwest? My friends there. The same thing goes for Delhi. That’s really what makes a place feel like home, after all.

Take today for example. Normally a Friday during the year in Delhi would mean a visit up for knitting group, or Twisted Threads as everyone insists on calling it. (Just because I’m the only knitter amongst a gaggle of Needle Pointing Ladies doesn’t mean that I’m not right!) I’d wake up early with Hubby and drive to meet MK at her house and we would share the one-hour ride to Gurgaon where all the Ladies live. For two hours we would sit and gossip (about everything from Doctor Pepper and Queen E’s friend Pedro, to making fun of a certain Delhi Typ0 and her tendency to drink), sit and eat, and sit and maybe or maybe not work on our crafts. Then MK and I would head off back into the city to eat lunch, maybe do some grocery shopping and then back home. If I was feeling particularly industrious I’d maybe even meet Kiwi for a coffee and a look at her bump (aka Little Kiwi). (Although I still think that Typ0 would be an excellent name for the baby!)

Later that evening, Hubby would come up and we’d debate about what we didn’t want to eat for dinner. Then we’d head off to the bar of choice, which had lately been Aura (aka The Vodka Bar), for some drinks with the gang. Dinner would follow soon after for reasons having as much to do with sobering up as being hungry. Life and friendships were good. Life was good because we had cool ass people to hang out with.

The same was true back in Illinois. I’d get to work and toil for hours on end (stop laughing, guys!), con someone into thinking they wanted to go to Casa for lunch. Then we’d work a little, chat a little, gossip a lot… I miss that. I miss you guys. (BTW, Yahoo ate my address book so email me, guys, and I promise not to take a year to email back!) Chatting about work, goals…

That’s the other thing I’ve been missing about Illinois: work. I used to love getting to work, seeing what new thing there was to do, complaining about the new thing there was to do… Figuring out the perfect training schedule, putting it in everyone’s calendar only to be told that the days were changing and my work was for naught. Freak I am, I really enjoyed that stuff. Keeping in touch with the lives of everyone in that building kept me busy. It kept me sane. Sane-ish?

Don’t get me wrong, I’m enjoying my life as an expat wife but every so often a girl needs to know that she’s the one with the answer to the riddle that no one else can answer, and that she has a purpose. I can’t even imagine how much that place has changed in the year since I’ve been gone, but a small part of me wishes that I could have been part of those changes. And an even bigger part of the lives of the people in that building.

Moving Stinks

You may not realize this, but I lived in the same house all the time I was growing up. We never moved from that perfect house and, in fact, my parents still live there. I enjoyed not moving, not having to make new friends and not packing and unpacking. I enjoyed knowing my community, the bus schedule and everything around me could be counted on for at least some degree of sameness. Know why? It’s because, as I have learned in the last 8 or 9 years, I loathe moving.

Do you realize that Hubby and I have lived in three different countries in the last 12 months? Heck skip countries, they’ve also been in three different continents! Were we to expand that slightly to 14 months we could say that we had lived in 4 different homes in that time. Not to mention all the temporary hotels and other dives (IIC) we’ve been sequestered in, in DC, Delhi, and now Nairobi. Allow me to break down the last two months for you…

In June we packed our suitcases and said goodbye forever to our home in Golflinks and headed over to the Duke’s flat in Jor Bagh for two days. We then repacked our cases and headed over to the Oberoi (sweet!) for 3 days before we winged it home to the Real World. During that two-week sojourn we spent delightful suitcase time in both Toronto and Illinois before heading out to Kenya. Now in Nairobi, we spent two and half weeks in House Number Four and then yesterday we were moved into the Hostel for the remainder of our stay. Hopefully in a few weeks we will be moving again but this time into our shiny new apartment.

Let’s recap the number of places we’ve stayed, shall we? In just seven days in June we racked three separate Indian domiciles, followed by two Real World ones and, so far, two Kenyan ones. That’s seven homes in less than two months. Rumor has it they may even try to move us to another room yet again. Do the words over my (insert several four letter words) dead body mean anything to these people?!

One more recap for the road, shall we? I hate moving. I hate living out of suitcases. (Please note: There is one exception to this rule: I will not mind flying to, or living out suitcases for our vacation in Australia!) Where was I? Oh yeah... We still don’t have an apartment to live in. Our status has not yet been changed so our things that didn’t fit into suitcases are melting in storage in India. Oh, and if I have to write a blog in 8 or 10 month’s time about how we’re moving to a new country again: Hubby will… I don’t want to make threats but let’s just say that it won’t be pretty.

Did I ever think I loved the life of the ever travelling expat wife? Well... maybe just a little.

Twisted Typ0

I realize that many of you have known what I’m about to say for ages and then some; however, it has only just occurred to me how truly sick and twisted I really am. No, you freaks not in the evil, yucky way that defines a truly twisted soul. More in the “I really need to stop being such a hater and finding humor in the wrong things” kind of way.

Case in point: I was perusing a new blog I found recently and the subject of book reviews came up. Well, you can’t very well talk about book reviews and not discuss Amazon and all the reviewing that goes on there. (Before I get to the meat of the story allow me to interject that, as my Devoted Readers you know that I use, read and shop on Amazon for both wishfully and practically. Thus I am not one to randomly dis the randomness of reviews found there so any humor I may find there is pure and not overly twisted… I think.)

Anyways… The person I was talking to via the oft-unused-around-here Comment feature (hint, hint, hint), told me a funny Amazon story. According to her, a few years ago Amazon accidentally hiccupped and showed the real names of people who wrote reviews. This would be their real names as opposed to the their cool Cyber Nairobi Typ0 type names. What was revealed was that family members of “rival” authors had done several very negative reviews and several good reviews had been done by the author’s family themselves.

I’m almost positive that I was supposed to be outraged by the horrors of having family members write reviews to pump up sales but all I could think was, “Good ‘onya!” Growing up your mother has to say you’re pretty even when you’re not. But doesn’t it make you feel a little bit better when she does? And your husband has to say that your fat butt looks good in those jeans that haven’t fit for 6 months. But it makes you love him, and yourself, all the more when he does.

The flip side of my hilarity was the Rival Family angle. Ok, this is totally wrong but so funny I’m actually giggling as I type. It’s so high school to think that these wonderful and published authors have the Head Cheerleader of from their school out on a whispering campaign to ‘dis some other random author who beat them up at recess once and is now pillaging their potential sales. (Please forgive my total mixing of metaphors there.)

“My son’s book is better!” “No my daughter’s book is perfect and even more better!” “No mine!” “No mine!” Please, let’s grow up or at least remember to use better fake names in the future.

To further my amusement at the cost of only me, I looked up reviews of your favorite blog (this one, silly!) online only to find that these horrible Rival Families were after me too!

Review by Nair Obi:
“You do not want to read Delhi Typ0’s blog. She’s a no talent hack who disses India up one way and down the other! If you want to read about the real beauty of India check out Nairobi Typ0’s blog. She’s got talent oozing out her tanned little pores.”

Review by Del Hi:
“I recently read Nairobi's blog on the subject of obtaining a maid (and keeping her) while in New Delhi. I must say that this woman’s erratic writing style and inexcusable misspellings make her prose virtually unreadable. This, of course, is to say nothing of the fact that she should quit her day job and try doing the housework herself if keeping a maid is difficult. I found her writing pedantic when compared to the unerring good taste and brilliance of Delhi Typ0’s blog which I recommend to anyone who wishes to view an honest and forthright vision of the wonders of India.”

If any of you know where I can find Mr. Obi please tell me so that I can find out why they are going around being mean to my friend Delhi Typ0. But then Delhi Typ0 is such a great, wonderful, talented, and incredibly modest blogger.… As I’m sure you’d all agree. :p

Good Luck!

Good luck to the gang at Illinois who are taking The Test today.

I know you'll all do well!!!

Remember the Core Rule:

Post exam beers at Murphy's.

And

Absolutely NO hashing out or talking about the exam at Murphy's!!

Fun Travel Time

About a month or so ago, I mentioned that we would be having some cool travel blogs upcoming… And then I never told you the details. Those of you not in the know, probably thought that our exotic trips to Middle America and Canada were the special trips I hinted at. Nope not even close!! It’s not even a blog based on Hubby’s current locale of London, England. (Pip pip and all that!) But I doubt he’ll remember his blogging duties after such a short jaunt across the continents.

The truth of the matter is that we’re about to Wander the World again!

I went today to pay for my half of the ticket to our next cool destination: Australia! While Hubby has been to the land of Kangaroos before I haven’t which means that I get a new continent and a new country. Yay! Watch out for the cool travel blogs from down under in early August.

Currently on the list of stops are a wine tour (shocking, huh?), a wicked cool meet up with the gals from ecfans.com, hopefully a tour of the Great Barrier Reef, and time in the Dubai airport duty free on the way home (can you say McDonalds?!), and tonnes more. I wonder if I can adopt a Koala to take home as a snuggle pet while we’re there? Obstinately, this is a business trip for Hubby and he will have to work for part of the time but I intend to keep that silliness to a bare minimum so that the rest of the time we can enjoy ourselves in Cairns, Brisbane and Goldcoast.

For those of you Devoted Readers who know the long, sad tale of Singapore I have news on that front: we’re not going… again. ARRGH! Someday, maybe when I’m 80, I’ll get to see the sunny shores of that paradise known as the anti-Delhi, but not this trip. Come on, how many of us actually thought it would happen? Ok, I may have hoped a little… *shrug* I suppose I shouldn’t complain, at least we’re not flying on Kenyan so I don’t have to go via Oman.

Any suggestions of what we should see or do while we’re there? Hot shopping spots? Good bookstores (I am so low on romances it’s sick!) or yarn shoppes? Tourist meccas we shouldn’t miss out on? Dish the scoop on Oz and help make your future blog reading more fun. (Or something like that.)

World Cup: Italy Wins!

Italy wins in penalty shoot out!

Viva Italia!!

World Cup Mania

Yes, my beloved Devoted Readers, it is that time again: World Cup Soccer Time. (I’m not sure how it works in relation to Hammer Time or Emmy Time but it’s up there in coolness at least once every few years.) Even I, who frown upon all sports unless watched under an Olympic flag, have the fever.

As my buddies the Walrus and Carpenter once told me, “The time has come.” No, not to discuss cabbages and kings, but to decide upon something far more important: where are you putting your World Cup Wandering the World Dollars?

Are you rooting “Ole!” all the way to the bank for ITALY?


Or are you sipping wine and nibbling on cheese in support of FRANCE?

State your preference now so that on Monday I can blog who were the smart ones who went with me to ITALY and who were the poor silly naïve children who thought France would pull it off.

It's Emmy Time

Emmy Time: Like Hammer Time…. But Better!

This afternoon, or this morning depending upon your home in this world, the Emmy people announced the nominees for this years Emmy honors. I think it safe to say that not having seen more than 10 hours (if that) of American television programming during the 2005-2006 season I am as equally qualified to denounce the nominees and pick the early winners as the people who chose them in the first place. Keep in mind that they changed the whole voting process in order to make the system fairer for smaller shows and networks. We’ll see…

Thus here is a list of the nominees, along with a few random comments from your favorite Nairobi Typ0. As long as Lauren Graham got nominated and “Becker” didn’t, it should be ok. I hope!

DRAMA SERIES
Grey's Anatomy
House
The Sopranos
24
The West Wing

I love the West Wing as much as the next girl and based on the numerous articles I’ve read at EW over the past year, it improved a lot this season but I’m not voting for my favorite Prez in this category, I’m afraid. Sopranos and 24 are also out because… well… I don’t like them. Sorry. House turned out to be a really cool show, once I got to see last year’s eps earlier this season in Delhi. Grey’s Anatomy is also an awesome show (and Hubby is in love with Izzy), which I actually caught last year when it first premiered.

So here is the battle: Grey’s vs. House. House is cool but Grey is getting the press.

Should Win: House
Will Win: Grey’s Anatomy

ACTOR IN A DRAMA SERIES
Peter Krause, Six Feet Under
Denis Leary, Rescue Me
Christopher Meloni, Law & Order: Special Victims Unit
Martin Sheen, The West Wing
Kiefer Sutherland, 24

Ok first for the ones that we’re discarding because I simply don’t like them: so long Kiefer and Peter. I’m sure they’re perfectly nice boys but they don’t deserve to win (since I never watch their shows). Denis is funny. Period. I realize that this is a drama series but still, the dude is actually semi-cool. Chris stars as my least fave character on one of my fave shows: SVU. That leaves us with Martin whose show is now off the air (sympathy vote here from old time academy members) and who really was an awesome pretend president for a few years.

The Battle: Sheen Sr. has no more show, Meloni’s character is annoying but his show rules, and Leary is Irish, funny and he does some good work and doesn’t hang around to get the credit.

Should Win: Christopher Meloni
Will Win: Martin Sheen

SUPPORTING ACTOR IN A DRAMA SERIES
Alan Alda, The West Wing
Michael Imperioli, The Sopranos
Gregory Itzin, 24
Oliver Platt, Huff
William Shatner, Boston Legal

This one could be a toughy: I don’t watch any of these shows other than West Wing, and I really like Oliver Platt as an actor. Oh, and Shatner, other than being a Canuck, is a putz.

Should Win: Oliver Platt
Will Win: Alan Alda

ACTRESS IN A DRAMA SERIES
Frances Conroy, Six Feet Under
Geena Davis, Commander in Chief
Mariska Hargitay, Law & Order: Special Victims Unit
Allison Janney, The West Wing
Kyra Sedgwick, The Closer

We are once again faced with several shows I simply don’t watch (Closer, Six Feet), and people I don’t groove (Geena). Since my Head Cheerleader Mentality has narrowed the field for us, Devoted TV Watcher and Reader, that leaves us with Allison, who was always good on the Wing, and Mariska who is tres, tres cool and, again, on one of the greatest shows on TV: SVU.

Should Win: Mariska Hargitay
Will Win: Allison Janney

SUPPORTING ACTRESS IN A DRAMA SERIES
Candice Bergen, Boston Legal
Blythe Danner, Huff
Sandra Oh, Grey's Anatomy
Jean Smart, 24
Chandra Wilson, Grey's Anatomy

Finally an easy peasy one! Murphy Brown is cool but her current show bites. Blythe gave life to that no talent Oscar winner Gwyneth, and… well… it’s Jean Smart. Ugg! So basically we’re left with Sandra (Canuck!) and Chandra (not a Canuck!).

Should Win: Sandra Oh
Will Win: Sandra Oh

PAUSE: Where were the nominations for Gilmore Girls?!!!! Ok, you’re right, I should calm down. They think that Desperate Housewives is a comedy maybe they did the same for my Girls. Deep Breath and….

COMEDY SERIES
Arrested Development
Curb Your Enthusiasm
The Office
Scrubs
Two and a Half Men

They left out Gilmore Girls!!! This is… well, given the state of the world today it isn’t a travesty or the end of the world but is really damn sucky! They nominated a Two and Half Men and not Gilmore Girls?! What the heck drugs are these Emmy voters on? Needless to say that GG should have been nominated and won. Period.

With what we have left….

Should Win: Arrested Development
Will Win: Scrubs

ACTOR IN A COMEDY SERIES
Steve Carell, The Office
Larry David, Curb Your Enthusiasm
Kevin James, The King of Queens
Tony Shalhoub, Monk
Charlie Sheen, Two and a Half Men

I can’t even pick since I either don’t watch or don’t like any of the shows nominated. Charlie Sheen had better not win or… well he just better hadn’t! They guys over at EW will be fuming over Kevin's nomination and how to properly scewer they’ve favorite whipping boy. Hubby hates the show Monk and Steve's acceptance speech at the Globes was funny. Therefore…

Should Win: Steve Carell
Will Win: Tony Shalhoub

SUPPORTING ACTOR IN A COMEDY SERIES
Will Arnett, Arrested Development
Bryan Cranston, Malcolm in the Middle
Jon Cryer, Two and a Half Men
Sean Hayes, Will & Grace
Jeremy Piven, Entourage

Sean had his day and now his show has been cancelled so he needs to move on. Jeremy is cute and I loved his show Cupid when it was on. But basically there is one winner here: anybody who starred in Arrested Development; a great and awesome show that should never, ever have been cancelled.

Should Win: Will Arnett
Will Win: Sean Hayes

ACTRESS IN A COMEDY SERIES
Stockard Channing, Out of Practice
Jane Kaczmarek, Malcolm in the Middle
Lisa Kudrow, The Comeback
Julia Louis-Dreyfus, The New Adventures of Old Christine
Debra Messing, Will & Grace

SUPPORTING ACTRESS IN A COMEDY SERIES
Cheryl Hines, Curb Your Enthusiasm
Megan Mullally, Will & Grace
Elizabeth Perkins, Weeds
Jaime Pressly, My Name Is Earl
Alfre Woodard, Desperate Housewives

Do I even to mention that they snubbed my girl, Lauren? I take back what I said earlier, this may, in fact actually be a travesty. Since I don’t watch most of these shows I have decided to eliminate all of the actress categories. Sorry, Alfre (for what they did to your part in Housewives and for taking this win from you) but there will be no statuettes for women in comedy if they’re going to 'dis Gilmore Girls!

It’s getting late and I still have more hating left in me about these nominations. I’d share with Hubby but he could care less. So please share your thoughts and hate-er-ate along with me.

Happy Birthday!

Happy B-Day BBS!
You are now well on your way
to being officially
O-L-D and Over The Hill.

Happy 4th of July

Happy Independence Day, USA!!!

Happy Canada Day!!

PS. And Happy Anniversary Mum and Dad!

At Least We Have Wine

We’ve now been in Nairobi just under a week… And what a week it has been! I’ve watched about a dozen DVDs (and *all* of the extras included on each disk), read a similar number of books and put a permanent dent in the shape of my butt on the world’s most uncomfortable chair. Yeah, what a thrilling week.

Here’s the problem, were to I admit there were such a thing: we have decent digs here on campus for our first two weeks here but have been granted no TV and Internet access that could be called spotty at best. For some of you highbrow Dedicated Reader types (all three of you), this may not be too big a deal. For the rest of us (those of us brave enough to admit to watching Law and Order, and the OC and getting our headline news from CNN, Pink the New Blog, and Yahoo News), and those of you who know my little, tiny TV addiction, well you can only guess my reaction to our current situation. TV in India may have been in Hindi half the time, and five years old the rest of the time, but at least it was there! *sob*

But, as I mentioned in the kickoff, I’ve been endeavoring to survive my current incarceration with a pouty, if stiff upper lip. The stack of DVDs and books that I bought before leaving the Real World that Hubby deemed as too many and a bit much of an expense have gone far toward keeping me on the happy side of sanity. (Or at least as sane as your favorite Typo can ever get!)

Stuck on Campus as we are has as been a boon as far as cooking goes: although there is a fairly good canteen that feeds us lunch, we’ve only visited once for dinner. Surprised? Hold on to your hats, mes amis, for I don’t even have any take out places programmed into phone yet. That’s right; we’ve been cooking dinner in our microwave-free kitchen almost every night. We even ate dinner at the dining room table a time or two.

I should point out, in the interest of fairness, that the Campus is actually quite pretty and Hubby and I have begun to take walks after lunch each afternoon. (Hey, even convicts get time in the yard for sunshine and exercise!) Although slightly chilly, the walks are pleasant enough. That said I’m looking forward to our furlough into town this weekend. The Company has been crazy enough… I mean, kind enough to loan us a car so we can go grocery shopping and whatnot over the weekend. Other weekend possibilities include pizza, All You Can Eat Meat, polo, and more books.

How thrilling a life we crazy expats lead, huh? Huzah!

Poor TomKat?

I’ve always held that this blog is not the place to blather on about my political or religious opinions. (Just pretend with me for a sec here, Ok? I’m going somewhere with this.)

Far be it from me to say one thing or another about celebr-entainment or religion and the bizarre line the two walk together from to time. That said, I can’t help by say bravo to the Catholic Church today.

"The BBC reported Monday that, while there has been speculation that Kidman got her first marriage annulled so that she and Keith Urban could say their "I do's" in a Catholic chapel, it turns out that, because she and Cruise swapped vows upon the altar that L. Ron Hubbard built, she wasn't legally married in the first place--as far as the Catholic Church is concerned, that is."

I Hate Flying

After three flights, no exit rows, no upgrades and many, many hours later, Hubby and I are now in Nairobi.

Welcome home!

PS Mum, Hubby and I have already had 1.5 home cooked meals and it's only Monday! :D

Elsewhere at the Legion of Doom...

Our time here in the Real World has, alas, finally expired. Good times were had by all, or at least by Hubby and me! We learned that despite thinking that our Cham-Bana friends had taste, several of them profess to like “Becker,” a sin for which I am still not certain that absolution can be obtained. We also learned that too much of a good thing, like Qdoba for example, can be a bad thing. Ohh my stomach!

On the plus side, those of wonderfully Loyal Readers who are in it for the world travels are about to be happy since our plans will soon take us to our new home in Nairobi, Kenya. That means that I have a whole new country to bitch about… errr… I mean love.

But of course, before we can start our next chapter, we have to finish this one. So, with Justice League DVDs in my suitcase, I leave behind the Superfriends of Illinois to search for new mutant buddies in Africa.

Blog y’all soon!

Care Bear Countdown

I’m not allowed to give away any big secrets but I can at least hint…

Congrats!!!!!!!

PS. (Typo makes an excellent name for a girl or a boy!)

Meanwhile, at the Hall of Justice…

Sorry to have been lax on the writing, mes amis, but the glory and wonders that are the Real World temporarily beguiled me. Fret not; however, because while I am not immune to their pleasures, I am being forced away from them in a few days. Bugger!

Hubby and I spent a delightful weekend North of the Border with my family. The merciless teasing began shortly after landing when my Mum and Dad arrived to pick us up and ended only slightly after takeoff on Sunday. The weekend, as you can imagine with me aboard for the ride, revolved around three things: food, shopping and family.

With stops at Canoe (en famille), Babur (where we, always, ordered our favorite non-Indian dinner at this Indian hot spot on Queen Street West), a bar or two, Swiss Chalet, and the ever-popular Chez Mum and Dad’s we spent four days in culinary heaven. Although the venison at Canoe was lovely, and the blood pudding for brekkie was beyond divine, the perfectly prepared BBQ roast beef dinner on Saturday night was the highlight. Starters, which included a homemade roasted garlic and goat cheese dip, got the evening off to early start. By the time we had inhaled the beef, several Yorkshire puddings (I was worried they might have gone to waste if they weren’t immediately consumed), roast potatoes, cauliflower with homemade cheese sauce, several veggies (I even ate a brussel sprout!), and a lovely sauce that was not to be confused with gravy… Well if you’re stuffed reading that list, imagine how I felt after pushing away from the table only to hear Mum ask who wanted dessert. ACK!

Despite what you may hear from Hubby I kept my shopping down to a dull roar. An outing with Mum only resulted in one or two outfits… and whatnot. *grin* It isn’t my fault that shopping is a genetic gift (or disorder as Hubby puts it). For the most part, Hubby and I participated in our fair share of window-shopping. Although I would like to point out that the lack of credit card use was not my choice!

Naturally, the best part of the trip was seeing the ‘Rents, my brother, BBA, and his family (the Saint, BBA Jr. and Angel). Insults, snappy retorts, and sarcastic witticisms were traded with an ease the belied the miles that normally separated the lot of us. Of course, I could hardly be blamed for defending myself with all the powers in my Annoying Little Sister Arsenal ™.

Sadly, all good things must end, so Hubby and I eventually took our leave of Toronto. Being upgraded to first class didn’t make saying goodbye to the family any easier. Well, maybe a little! :) While there may be good reasons that we all live on different continents, they’re still family and that makes most of them ok in my book.

Nighty Night Typ0

No trip back to Illinois would be complete without a stopover in our former stomping grounds of Cham-bana. It is amazing how things can change so little and yet be completely different at the same time. A quick drive up through the heart of Campus Town boasted a new Chipotle and even a Starbucks. Thankfully, the local flavors of Zorba’s and the Korean BBQ place were still intact in this new version.

After a quick lunch at Qdoba (shredded beef nachos, in case you were curious), we headed up to Mumford Hall and all of Hubby’s old friends and inmates. As he sat down to work in Doc A’s office, I wandered the halls and was pleasantly surprised by how many people remembered me. Many of you were Devoted Readers and to you I tip my hat and give a big ‘ole *cyberhug*.

After a while, Hubby emerged from his high-powered meeting (which was punctuated with several guffaws that could be heard clear down the hall for anyone who hadn’t yet figured out that Hubby was back in town), and he proceeded to gossip with his old classmates. Before long, they had appropriated Cam’s bat and wiffle ball and were out on the lawn attempting to prove to each other that they were still 18. Silly cute boys!

Do I even need to tell you where we ended up next? Yup, down at Guido’s for a series of Tangerine Dream Martinis (for me), and Oberon beer (for the Hubby). Even less surprising than the fact that we ended up in a bar should be Hubby’s order for dinner: a black bean burger with a side of bacon, BBQ sauce and onion rings. Some things never change. (As ‘Sconni Boy jokingly pointed out, Hubby may have a problem killing beef but those bacon producing pigs better watch out!)

The crowd that gathered at our old watering hole was a great one: from the aforementioned ‘Sconni Boy and his soon-to-be Mrs. ‘Sconni Girl, to the inventor of Uzbeki Pizza and his current GF. (He claims that his famous Uzbeki pizza is really just Papa John’s but I don’t believe him!) I will apologize now for not naming everyone there, but I can’t seem to come up with appropriate new names although we did think that maybe Bubba, Not Joseph Smith, and Mr. and Mrs. Mantoon (nee Rantoul) could work for a quick start. (Discuss for 10 points.)

We did learn that when writing the core exam and in doubt of the answer, simply writing, “Please refer to Hubby’s exam” would work for full points. It was suggested that the movie of the year in should have been “Brokeback Mumford,” and that the term “Rantucky” is insulting to people in Kentucky. We also, sadly, learned that I am still embarrassingly jet lagged as I napped through most of our time across the street in Boltini’s. I still maintain that it wasn’t my fault: the couch was just really comfy! Thus I apologize for falling asleep on y’all and promise that next time I’ll do my best to drink NJS under the table.

So ‘till next time mes amis. Until then, keep drinking, only study when you absolutely have to, and, if at all possible, take less than 15 years to graduate so you can come join us in… well… wherever it is we’ll be by then!

Twenty-Four Hours Later

We are now back in the States for a brief sojourn in the Real World before we head back out for Kenya. The 15-hour Delhi to Newark flight wasn't as bad as we had feared. But heck, who am I kidding, all was made better when, shortly after landing in Chicago...

I HAD A POBLANO PESTO BURRITO FOR LUNCH!

Life is good!

X-Men: The Last Sequel?

So Hubby and I, and a bunch of friends all went to see the new X-men movie a few weeks ago. I insisted on watching the movie opening weekend since, as rumor has it, I am an obsessed Xfan. We even went early to make sure that we could all get tickets and whatnot. What a let down.

I’m sorry, but Rogue would never, ever, ever have taken the cure. No way! The director claims that he didn’t know what else Rogue could have done in the movie but he is obviously very short sighted as I came up with a great rewrite that includes Rogue in the final battle within moments of the movie ending.

So Rogue thinks about getting the cure and goes to the center; this was a good side plot and did a good job of dramatizing the moral conflict the cure presented to the Mutants. Cut to the battle when Wolverine says he's the only one who can defeat Phoenix: Rogue shows up and says, that she's there to help. She absorbs Logan's healing power and Colossus' powers and then goes to Jean to absorb her powers. Bonus to my version is that Jean doesn’t die and can be in the next movie. I am a genius! (Yes, I know there are a lot of problems with this idea but I’m still bitter over the lack of Rogue in the movie.)

And what was with it suddenly turning from day to night just before the battle on Alcatraz? There were so many plot holes in this movie. Why can’t more directors just call me to fix their movies rather than release poor copies of the greatness that could have been?

Worst of all is that they are saying that this is it: no more X-men movies. *sob* How could they end it like that? They killed off great characters, wrecked the great and classic Dark Phoenix saga, and had Rogue take the cure. (Yeah, I know I already mentioned it but it bore repeating.)

Since I know that Fox wants me to write the sequel to fix the nonsense that was The Last Stand, I have drafted the introductory scenes for your perusal.

As we all know, the cure from X3 doesn't work, and how long it takes to wear off seems to depend upon the person. So here is how we fix things and bring the Marvel-verse back into the movies: Marie, as she is now known, is cured and loving touching things, becomes a doctor who specializes in helping mutants. She and Bobby have since broken up since she's not one of them and he is a poopyhead.

Cut to the hospital where she works and a mutant by the name of Ms. Marvel is brought to see her. Marie is working on helping her and something in the room goes awry and she ends up with her hands on Ms. Marvel trying to protect her and all of a sudden her powers come back, and gains her Ms. Marvel abilities of flying and super strength!

Struggling to deal with all that happened she returns to the X-men and meets Gambit who tells Bobby (in that sexy Cajun accent) he's an idiot for dumping her. Rogue takes back her X-men name and stays at the school to learn her new powers and, ultimately, to fight the Big Bad of X4.

And all that was just the first 20 minutes of the movie. So what do you think: did X3 suck as much as I think? Is my version of the new movie as awesome as my sugar-induced mind would have me believe?

Tick Tock

As I write this my time in Delhi has been reduced to mere hours. Despite the fact that we have known for months that this moment was coming, it has, for me, only just begun to sink in.

I have already closed the door for the final time on my empty apartment. I have hugged friends knowing that beyond email and the pages of this blog I may not ever see them again. I have driven down roads with the knowledge that the next time I do so, it will be as a visitor not as a Delhiite. Delhi will likely never again be home.

And I’m kind of bummed out about that.

Yeah, Delhi had… has a lot of problems, but it was still my home for the last year. It’s like when you insult your brother to a friend and they agree. Well, etiquette demands that you smack your friend around since only you can dis your brother. I rather feel that way about Delhi.

The problems with this place abound and new ones crop up on a weekly basis. (Yes, Hubby would say daily, but I’m in a mood to defend my brother, Delhi.) But no matter what India threw at us; from evil, Satan-esque landlords, to water delivery guys who refused to show up without 7 days notice, we overcame. We conquered the Rubik’s Cube of Delhi. Don’t get me wrong, we didn’t get all six sides, but we at least matched up two or three of them.

When we get on that plane in a few days, I will probably sniff back a tear or two. My friends at the Network and the Organization and elsewhere will likely continue their lives with little or no disruption. (That my dearest Readers and Friends was your cue to point out that you will all be crying yourselves to sleep due to my absence.) But the changes and impressions they made in my life will never be forgotten.

Happy Birthday!

Happy Birthday, Mummy!!!!

It's All About Food

I have some lists today for you contemplate – I certainly have been. Here’s the thing, you see, we’re leaving Delhi. We may come back but we’ll never again be locals and be privy to all the things that make Delhi unique; we won’t know why the Soup Nazi guy in Khan Market finally goes over the edge (although I have been trying to push him that way the last few weeks), we won’t know when new bars open, or when they go over to the dark side and become hangouts for local kids (RIP Aura). That said, we certainly won’t miss baking in 40C weather and being thankful that it isn’t hotter today, and we won’t miss our evil landlord and his nefarious machinations.

So rather than lists about what we’ll miss in Delhi and what we’re looking forward to Nairobi I’ve decided upon keeping the former for another day and swapping the latter out for something more fun. After all, I’ve spent the sum total of, like, 80 hours in Nairobi so I don’t know what I’ll enjoy there yet. So our list will reflect all the things I’m looking forward to during our ever so brief trip back home in the Real World.

Things to do in the Real World

• Go to a restaurant and ask for a glass of tap water with ice!
• Go to an Indian restaurant and call ahead to get a reservation for Hari Sadu.
• Go Qdoba and order a Pablano Pesto Burrito with a side of chips and queso.
• Go to Guidos in Urbana and have several Mandarin Martinis and an order of their awesome nachos with chicken. (And hell no I am NOT sharing!)
• Buy lots of trashy romances including the new ones from Lynn Kurland, Celeste Bradely, and Sherrilyn Kenyon.
• Buy lots of DVDs to take back with us including Justice League, Xmen Evolution and about 3 dozen others!
• Have a Big Mac, Whopper, chicken from KFC, ¼ chicken dinner with extra Chalet sauce at Swiss Chalet… Who are we kidding there will be a lot of fast food eating!
• Eating Zesty Doritos!!
• Heading back to Qdoba for an order of shredded beef nachos.
• Eating salad that hasn’t soaked in pool water for a half hour.
• Cooking without having to soak and rinse everything first.
• A salad and sandwich at Panera are a must have for lunch one day.
• Did someone say Tobin’s pizza with BBQ sauce?!
• Staying with parents and enjoying a home cooked meal. (Bacon, cabbage and parsley sauce, or maybe roast beef with Yorkshire pudding, roast potatoes, peas, carrots and cauliflower with cheese sauce!)

Is anyone else noticing that most of this list is made up of food? Dang, no wonder I’m so fat! Hehehe I can’t wait to get home and eat – and if that doesn’t tell you all you need to know about your favorite Delhi (soon to be Nairobi) Typo I don’t know what will!

The Weirdness Continues

I’d thought I’d share a few random stories with you before we hit the Delhi road…

Remember that hot water heater that my landlord took five months to fix? You’ll be glad to hear, no doubt, that they eventually fixed it and gave us the glory that is more than two minutes of hot water. Of course, they performed this miracle just in time for heat wave that is summer in Delhi. Allow me to explain – the easiest way to get hot water here is to turn on the COLD tap. Yes, you that correctly: I said cold tap. Basically the sun heats up the water tanks so damn well that we get wickedly hot water courtesy of Mother Nature. Needless to say, Hubby and I turned off the hot water heaters ages ago. Besides which, in this heat, cool showers are best anyways!

Still not sure what I’m talking about? Ok, I have one more example for you loyal but still doubting readers. Have you ever put your hand on the water tank of your toilet? I’m serious here, so bear with me please. The tank should be cold or at least cool to the touch since it fills with regular water. If you don’t believe me, run on into your washroom and check then get back to the blog. *waiting* *waiting* Ok, now you see, if you had touched the tank on one of our toilets you probably would have been shocked as they are quite literally warm, if not, hot to the touch. Dang freakish Delhi heat.

We’re talking about heat that melts once frozen chocolate in a matter of minutes. Heat that makes the brief walk from your front door to the car seem like a mile as the sweat drips down the backs of your legs. Last month, days when the thermometer went over 40C far, far outnumbered those when it was in the seemingly blissful cool of the 30s. Even shopping trips got cancelled in favour of spending time sitting and doing nothing beneath the cooling arms of the fan.

I promise that I’ll blog more in the next few weeks. After all I still have to share with you why our Landlord is evil, how Brett Ratner ruined X-men 3 (and my perfect plan to fix it in X4), all the things we’re looking forward to back the in the Real World, and all the things we’re going to miss about wonderful Delhi. Plus, as a bonus, we have news about more upcoming traveling and World Wandering Blogs! See ya soon!

Slacking is Fun

Don’t even say it. The Slacker Queen has been beyond slacking for the last month and a half after promising and swearing upon several sacred relics (or pieces of melting chocolate) that she wouldn’t do so ever again. All I can say, in my most adorable voice and with the cutest look on my face is, “I’m sorry.”

Good now that we have that out of the way here are a few updates for you my most wonderfully, faithful readers. First off, the movers will be here on Saturday. Yeah, like, the day after, the day after tomorrow, Saturday. Do you think Hubby and I are prepared for their arrival? Well, those of you who know us personally, or at least have come to know us through the Blog can probably guess that the answer is an emphatic no. But c’est la vie. We’ll figure it out and be packed out by the end of the weekend.

Which brings us to the next item on our list: we’ll be home in a week or so. Since y’all in Delhi can’t get rid of us that easily. The Duke has been kind enough to put us up for a week while we prep for that final 6000 hour flight back to the Real World. So for those of you back in Illinois, you had better prepare for the worst because we’ll be back home before you know it. I’m thinking only one word: Guido’s!!

In order to make this blog go full circle, I thought it important to update those poor people in Kenya that we’ll be there by the end of the month! Ye haw! We still don’t have an apartment, or a car, or, it turns out, a microwave but we’ll still be there with bells on.

So get ready world because the team of Typo and Hubby are about escape from Delhi and you had better be prepared!

Emergency Landing

As you may (or may not) know our weekend in Kenya was planned so that we would return on Monday. Then Hubby wouldn’t lose any work time, as I would drop him off on our way home. Well the best-laid plans and all that…

We left Nairobi on Sunday evening somewhat late as our Kenya Airways flight was delayed by a couple of hours. Engrossed in “City of Djinns” (yeah, I know I was supposed to read this months ago), the delay didn’t bother me all that much. Two hours after our scheduled departure time, they finally initiated the scrum.

The scrum, for those of you who may not be knowing (as they say in Delhi), is what inevitably happens despite an airline’s best attempts to have an organized progression to board the plane in an orderly fashion. Instead, everybody runs and elbows their way to the gate in an attempt to be the first ones in their seats. Amateurs. Hubby and I, as you would expect, elbowed AND followed the rules and were among the first to be seated. Cheating, when accompanied with rules, really does pay!

But back to the real story…

Tired as I was, I pulled the unusual-for-me maneuver of napping after take off. About an hour or two into the flight, I heard the oddest thing just outside of my dream: The captain was calling the head steward to join him in the cockpit. That couldn’t be good.

Ten minutes later, Hubby was now snoring quietly next to me when the captain came over the speakers once again. The cockpit window had cracked in two places and we would be making an emergency landing in Salalah, Oman. But we shouldn’t worry because everything was OK and the landing was just a precaution.

Well I was certainly awake now!

Rumor later had it that when we turned around for Oman, we were actually somewhere out over the Indian Ocean. I don’t know for sure if this was true, but it did take almost an hour from announcement to touch down. It wasn’t until the plane’s wheels finally hit the tarmac that Hubby finally awoke and found out what had been happening.

Salalah has a tiny little airport that proved unsuited to housing, even temporarily, 200-plus people. It took two hours for the Captain to announce that the earliest they could get the needed part was 12:30 that afternoon. Since dawn was just breaking over the sandy dunes of the desert this wasn’t really great news to me or the other sleepy passengers.

A promise of a comfy hotel to hole up in while the plane was being fixed was easier said than done. Hubby and I were two of only a handful of people who wouldn’t require a visa to legally enter Oman. After another hour or so of negotiating, a decision was finally reached: everybody would surrender their passports before they left the airport. This would, in theory, ensure our desire to get back on the plane of doom and go back home. Hubby and I agreed to this against our better judgment because were really tired and wanted a bed to lie down in.

The hotel proved to be a big of auction. “Family of 5!” “I need a single – just 1!” “Double – me and my wife! Please double!” The calls down the length of the hotel’s check-in counter and became more and more insistent as people began to walk away with their hard won keys. Hubby’s height once again worked in our favor and we were given a room (a double for me and my husband) with surprising expediency.

Having fallen asleep only minutes after opening the door to our large if dingy room, Hubby and I totally missed breakfast. A refreshing nap and relaxing shower completed the package and were ready for lunch and then to leave.

Yeah right!

I feel that I should note here that Oman is really quite nice if you’re into desert countries. The people were extremely kind and solicitous in making sure that we were made comfortable and had whatever was needed to get us through our interminable sojourn in their country. Although it was too far from our hotel to actually eat there, we even saw a KFC. I wonder if the Omani people prefer Original Recipe or Extra Crispy?

Long story short (way too late), we didn’t leave the hotel until 11:15 that evening. As the bus dropped us off in front of the airport, we both took note of the Kenya Air jet on the tarmac and hoped that it was good to go. (Of course, if they had called Apple Auto Glass like I suggested, we would have been out of there hours ago!) As our luck for the day would have it, the plane didn’t actually take off until after 2 a.m.

Adding a new country to our list was fun but we were ready to go home. The beggars, blistering heat, and dust of Delhi were calling to us like the Sirens of legend. Well, like the Sirens but less good looking and desirable. Anyways, ahead of us, still lay four hours to Mumbai plus the negotiations to get us back to Delhi.

I may never travel again.

Tall, Orange, and Snuggly

On our final day in Kenya, we headed out for some good old-fashioned sightseeing. Specifically, we arranged to see the Karen Blixen Museum and the nearby Giraffe Center. Do I really need to tell you which part of this trip will take up more blog space?

Ok, well to kick off our morning as tourists, we headed into the suburb of Nairobi called Karen. Named after Karen Blixen of “Out of Africa” fame, the area is quite picturesque and lushly green. If you have ever read Ms. Blixon’s book or seen the Meryle Streep movie then you’re ages ahead of Hubby and I on knowledge about this area and the woman for whom it has been dubbed.

Karen was in Nairobi in the early 1900’s and basically spent her family’s entire and substantial fortune on a coffee plantation. Her main reason for coming to Kenya was to marry her cousin who ended up dying in the 1930’s. She then hooked up with Robert Redford’s character who died in a plane crash (damn Karen was a serious Black Widow), watched her plantation go under, and then headed back home to Europe. I think that we all know that I’m missing lots of information here but you get the basic idea.

The one really cool thing about the museum is that it was actually her home. Some of the furniture in the house is original and the rest are set pieces from the movie. Tres cool.

After our brief history lesson (that I so obviously paid attention to), we were off to the Giraffe sanctuary. This place was infinitely beyond cool. Set up as an education center and breeding ground, the Center’s main purpose is to save and repopulate the nearly extinct Rothschild Giraffe.

Long story short, the poachers aren’t to blame this time. Go fig! The RCG (as I have dubbed it for short) was quite popular in Western Kenya. But when Man decided to move in town they nearly killed off the giraffes in their attempts at “civilizing” the area.

We were able to pet, feed, and learn about the snuggly critters firsthand with the help of a guide who made sure that I didn’t try to take any home. Meanie! One of the babies must have been a Canadian giraffe as his name was Gordon. Come on, you can’t get any more Canuckian then that! Of course, mean Hubby said that sweet little Gord wouldn’t fit in my carry-on baggage.

Hubby wanted me to note here that the giraffes had very long and scratchy tongues. He likened them to sandpaper more than once. He also thought they were very pretty even if he wasn’t going to let me bring any home.

In the pursuit of full disclosure and honesty, I should also note that Hubby did most of the feeding of the statuesque animals. I was slightly intimidated by their 14-inch long tongues and the propensity of one in particular to eat my fingers.

Overall, our final day in Nairobi was a grand success. We learned stuff about historical-type people, pet snuggle giraffes, and even bought some wine to bring home with us. The latter will last only a fraction as long as the former two, I’m sure.

Jambo!

Vroom!

Very often in the Real World, Hubby and I have made jokes at the expense of people who own and drive SUVs. These cars, we are told by their manufacturers, can survive and be used in rough terrains and be off roaded with ease. Reality, of course, is that the most arduous thing these cars will ever do is to drive over a speed bump or two in the wilds of the Big City mall.

As we prepared for our big move to India, we were mocked with these same jokes and tales of the Land Rover or Hummer we would be given as transport in Delhi. Our rather comfy and smallish Honda City is no off-road ready monster. For while the challenge of negotiating traffic in Delhi is no small matter, we simply don’t need a Qualis or other such road monster.

The same cannot be said of Nairobi. We arrived in the midst of the rainy season and 1½ foot deep puddles on the road were not so much rare as the order of the day. The elephant-sized pot holes that spotted the road at every turn were also a fun challenge to negotiate. I know that there is a rumor out there that I am one given somewhat to hyperbole but this time I swear I kid thee not. These potholes would have given Baby Jessica flashback nightmares.

The one really weird thing, when compared with Delhi, was the complete and utter lack of motorcycles and scooters. Everyone here, it seemed, traveled by car, SUV or Matatu (which is basically a shared taxi/minivan that is quite common here).

On our second night here, Hubby’s friend hosted a small dinner party for us and some Org newbies at his home in Karen. The ride there in Cowboy’s old-school Range Rover was an adventure and an education. At more than one juncture we were tipped precariously to one side as we drove around and through the potted roads. Take a wrong turn at a median? Not to worry – we literally drove over the median to get back on track.

Between the lakes of water and the sinkholes, Hubby and I quickly agreed that a four-wheel drive car would be the order of the day upon our return to Kenya. I’m not saying that we’re getting a Land Rover but I’m not saying that we’re not either.

So strap on your seatbelts and hold onto your assets because your beloved Delhi Typ0 is getting back behind the wheel. Yeehaw!

One Word: MEAT

During our first evening in Nairobi, Hubby and I agreed on one thing: we wanted to eat meat. While chicken and mutton are omnipresent here in Delhi, beef and other exotic dead animals are remarkably hard to come by. Don’t get me wrong -- I love every one of you who have ever smuggled me into ACSA for a burger but it just isn’t quite the same.

In any case, in our desire to be omnivores, we had two choices of venue: the world famous Carnivore Restaurant or the new Pampa Grill at the Panari Sky Hotel.

(Rant Ahead: I hate it when people refer to people who eat meat as Carnivores since that would imply that they consumed only meat where as the term Omnivore refers to critters who eat meat and potatoes. End of Rant)

After debating our choices for a good while we eventually agreed upon Pampa as it was only a short drive from our hotel. The drive itself was educational as our driver felt the need to educate us about the dangers of living, driving, and simply being in Nairobi. As we drove, I noticed that a swarm of insects was ominously gathered at every location where an overhead floodlight drove out the darkness below. I was tempted to ask about these could-be locusts but was interrupted by the arrival of our taxi at our meat haven destination.

Not asking about the demon bugs was a HUGE mistake. Oh yeah, the caps there are warranted. I exited the car to find myself in the midst of this biblical swarm of what turned out to be flying termites. I could feel their tiny wings beating against my skin as I ran into the building for what I assumed would be shelter from the flying demons. Not so much – there were seemingly even more inside the doors of the hotel. We dashed up the stairs toward the restaurant, crushing the bugs beneath our feet in a mad dash for both food and freedom from evil winged beasts.

After ordering our drinks we were confronted with the salad bar that sat in the middle of the beautifully appointed restaurant. Now, this wasn’t my first trip to such a meat extravaganza but I was naïve and wide eyed at all the greenery and variety to be found. You see, the point of the salad bar in these Brazilian BBQ places is to trick you into being too full to eat all the meat they escort to your table. In addition to the salads, our waiter also brought an array of fries, onion rings, fried cassava (Hubby’s fave), and fried bananas (which were beyond to die for).

Onto the meat… Each variety of meat was brought out by a different waiter who offered us a choice cut of whatever was on their skewer. Seriously they carried giant skewers, I’m not just being a pervert. Go fig. Each skewer made a visit at least two or three times although I personally felt nauseous from protein overload after only a single go around.

The Meat Menu™ included five types of beef (the sirloin was seriously beyond yummy), crocodile (which tasted very yuckily of fish), camel (not bad), “fish” (which we didn’t try), pork sausage, beef sausage (the sausage guys started getting scared of Hubby as he literally salivated every time they offered him their skewers), pork ribs, hump roast (cue Black Eyed Peas), pork loin, goat, chicken and grilled pineapple for dessert.

Yes, I just said dessert. I couldn’t believe they had the audacity to have dessert on the menu. Who the hell could eat dessert, even something as simple as a slice of grilled pineapple, after all that meat?! Honestly, it was just sick to ask people to continue stuffing themselves to Monty Python-esque heights.

A Typ0’s Home is her Castle

We have finally arrived back from our “weekend” in Nairobi, Kenya. The purpose of this trip was to see if I liked the place (like it wasn’t too late already to back out), check out the life style there, and see some potential apartments. Well, mission accomplished, we did all of that and then some.

We saw several different styles of homes in our quest to find ourselves a new abode: from modern apartments with huge modern kitchens to huge estates with substantial acreage. While the latter (or what we in Delhi would call Farm Houses) are not our cup of tea, they are rather lovely once you get past the need for an army of people to assist with the upkeep (gardeners, guards, cooks, maids etc.). What you’re left with is really a life style choice.

The Cowboy, Hubby’s soon to be boss (kinda), had us over one afternoon and we found ourselves feeling rather decadent and relaxed. We sat in his six-acre garden in the shade of some lovely, old trees while his housekeeper brought out our snack and we sipped on perfectly chilled South African wine. Tough life, huh?

So while we don’t need the space, the headaches, or the effort of an estate – the bliss and peace of it all are hard to beat. That said, we will likely end up in an apartment like we have today… well almost like we have today. Here for your reading pleasure is a little comparison of our current home to the apartment we really liked in Nairobi.

Delhi 1 Lak = 2200 USD (aprox) 3 Bedroom, each w/ Ensuite Crappy Kitchen Huge Terrace Good Sized Living Room Small but Adequate Dining Room Posh-ish Area No Spa/Exercise Area No Fence Sloppy Security Guys w/ Light-up Sticks Overall Actual Worth = 800 USD

Nairobi 80,000 Shillings = 1150 USD (aprox) 4 Bedroom, each w/ Ensuite Modern Kitchen Small Balcony Mammoth Living Room Zero Dining Room Nice-ish Area similar to Vasant Vihar Spa/Exercise Area Big Walls with Electric Fence Serious Security Dudes with Guns Overall Actual Worth = 1150 USD

Welcome home!

The New Dream Car

After realizing that I totally missed out on having an excellent April Fool’s Blog, I insisted to Hubby that he make everything better by taking me out to lunch and getting me intoxicated. Presented with this challenge, he decided upon Nikko’s where we would have all you can drink Champagne and all you can eat sushi for Rs. 1500. This alone would have made it a wonderful day- but there was an even better treat yet to come.

One of the many things I wanted to do prior to the Big Move was to have a ride in an Ambassador Car. These uniquely Indian mode of transport are produced by Hindustan Motors and were originally modeled on the old British Morris Oxford. Moreover, they are virtually omnipresent here in Delhi as they are the preferred vehicle for minor Indian officials, taxi drivers, and nostalgic expats alike.

Made from seemingly indestructible steel, these cars tool around the streets of Delhi and are second only to the even larger and even more indestructible DTC buses. The men who drive these cars are, by and large, insane lunatics with even less regard for road safety than the usual Indian driver. I assure you that this is a prospect that lives somewhere in the region of beyond scary. I actually witnessed a motorcyclist bounce rather ungracefully off the hood of an Ambassador and have his bike (and him to be honest) end up rather the worse for wear as a result of the encounter.

Hubby considers these cars throwbacks to the old colonial age and hates them accordingly. It is his opinion that India should cast off its fleet of Colonial-mobiles and develop its own car that would be uniquely Indian rather than un-uniquely Queen Mum. I can see his side but I love these old cars and I finally got to ride in one yesterday.

Since we didn’t want to drive home from Champagne-a-palooza we ordered a taxi at the hotel and up drove my green and yellow chariot. Admittedly the behemoth had no air-conditioning to speak of but the huge couch of a back seat was roomy enough that even Hubby had to admit that we had a comfy ride home.

Long live India’s ambassador of colonial vehicular grandeur: for thou art big, safe and quite comfy!

Doctor Typ0

You’ll be pleased, no doubt, to hear that I ended up going with my tour group to Humayan’s Tomb on Wednesday despite my vow to skip out on this site. Even though this was my 3rd or 4th visit, it was still fun as the weather had not yet grown terribly evil and hell-like. We ended the morning of site-seeing by checking out Sarfdajung’s tomb, which actually turned out to be super close to home. Go fig! I’m taking Big Bro S (BBS) to both places in a few weeks so I’ll save the blog-tour 'til then.

In the meantime, allow me to share with you my new views on the joys of Indian healthcare. Since we’re off to Kenya for the weekend, I needed my Yellow Fever shot ASAP as without it they won’t let me in Kenya or back into India after the fact. Stupid rules. Hubby gave me the 411 on the shot and explained to me that it had to be administered by an officially sanctioned hospital or health center and that these are usually government run. In fact, he continued, non-cool centers won’t even have the vaccine.

After debating where we should go for the vaccine Hubby shot down my vote for Max Med and called the Health People (I’m sure they had an official name but I don’t recall) and asked where we should head. The answer: an Indian-run hospital near Connaught Place. I wasn’t thrilled with the news but Hubby told me I had no choice so we climbed in the car and told our driver where we were going. He gave us a weird look and asked if we were sure. At our nod, he bobbled his head and started off toward CP.

We approached a series of rundown buildings that I thought was a stockade or at least a condemned area. Only slightly daunted, we headed into the main building where Hubby and I were the easily whitest people to have ever crossed the threshold. And, no, I’m not being a hater. We got such weird and astonished looks as we tried to read the signs and find the vaccination clinic that a kindly turbaned doctor finally took pity on us and took us into his office where our “fairness” could no longer offend or confuse the hospital’s general population.

The good doctor sent us out to another building to get our shots and even gave us his assistant to show us the way. The assistant naturally wanted a tip upon our arrival but we pretended ignorance, thanked him, and sent him away empty handed.

The assistant brought us to a tiny room filled and surrounded with people holding their passports and yellow vaccination cards – we were in the right place. We walked up to the scruffy-looking desk jockey whom, we were told, was in charge. He looked over my passport and yellow card and told us… Well, we’re not sure what he told us, so we just kinda stood there like bumps on logs and hoped for further direction.

A woman with dirty fingernails (seriously, I could see the dirt!) sat behind a table to my right and was administering the vaccine to people in no particular order. The vaccine itself came in a communal bottle we were told held 20 doses. After each shot, the woman dipped the needle in this machine that we determined, based on the smoke that appeared each time, melted the tip of the needle so as to render it un-re-usable. She then threw that out and opened a new needle. Despite viewing these precautions I felt really iffy about getting my shot in a room that looked like it hadn’t seen the happy side of disinfectant in at least a year.

I can’t say that I was deeply saddened when Scruffy Guy got all attitude on us and said that the clinic was closed and if we wanted a shot we would have to come back later in the week. Now, I’m not going to deny that I got slightly pissed at the guy. After all, we had been waiting for quite some time for this shot and the excuses he gave us held about as much water as my hot water gieser (AKA none).

Still grumbling, we left the hospital grounds via the rather smelly service road. Undaunted, yet still unwilling to admit I may have been right, Hubby directed our driver to take us to the Max Med Clinic in Pansheel Park. Max Med is a cash on service, private clinic cum hospital that caters to expats, and middle to upper class locals.

There is honestly no way to fully appreciate the modern-ness, efficiency, and organization of Max Med unless you’ve been to an Indian hospital. The people spoke decent English, were helpful, and even the waiting room appeared clean. She was even nice about the rather obvious fact that I am a 2 year old when it comes to getting shots.

The professional services we received took no more than 20 minutes. Why the heck didn’t we start with this world-class clinic rather than using as a last resort? Compared with the Real World, the medical care here is frightfully inexpensive. Hubby has even headed back to the Clinic since that day and had a full physical (including numerous lab tests) for less money than you’d pay for a night at a martini bar with me in the States. He even had all the results in less than 24 hours!

After our brief excursion into the Indian medical system, I can honestly say that while it isn’t perfect, it can be pretty darn good. So next time you need laser eye surgery, open heart surgery, or even need a broken bone set, head over to Delhi where you can get an incredibly well trained doctor to do a great job at half the price of your local Real World Quack.

Welcome to India, the doctor is in.