1. A frighteningly numerous troop of macaques (including many large, aggressive males) have been setting some things straight amongst themselves on our rooftop and balcony. Predawn today, one monkey smashed a large flowerpot on our balcony, a flowerpot which was home to a succulent edible plant of which I can't remember the name and am currently mourning. Our landlord has been shouting "Hi-Ya!" and waving bamboo poles and throwing bricks at these rowdy simians for the last two days. Today he decided he'd better escort his wife and teenage son to the street whenever they leave the house. Heather, sitting on the floor and crocheting plastic bags into tapestries just a few feet from a balcony lined with red-assed monkeys, says, "How does Guruji do it? He teases them! I'm just going to pretend they're not here." Never fear, having read Michael Crichton's "Congo" when I was 9, I'm confident I know how to deal with any primate aggressions. I am not afraid of them. I am not afraid of them. Nope.
2. I had a good dose of maddening Indian bureuacracy today when, in order to purchase a $27 mobile phone (no contract, even, just the phone and a calling card), the shop required a signed affidavit from my landlord, my passport, my Indian tourist visa, and a new passport-sized photo. On my 3rd visit to the shop in 24 hours, the salesman informs me that my signatures on the forms do not match the signature on my passport and so I'd have to go back down the street and have everything photocopied again. I, through taut jaws and pulling a little too hard on my beard, said, "The photos don't match either, sir, so should I hit the barber on my way back?!" And then I killed him. Our new phone number is available via personal email.
3. Heather made potatoes taste exactly like slow-smoked pulled pork. So freakin' good and patently impossible ...
