Indian Samurai इंडियन सामुराई

Souvenirs of my stay in Paris in January 2016...

Something to give you a little hope and love when you have a long wait ahead at the hospital!

In Parc Monceau

Simply baffling...

Sometimes I wonder how the connections in some brains are working?

What does this picture tell us? 

1. Some Indians also use toilet paper (and not only the spray hose), probably to dry their ass.

2. Some Indians do not throw paper in the toilet – which is the case in many countries where the piping is not adapted to these new ‘methods’ (wiping ones bottom with toilet paper).

3. Some Indians do not know how to aim or do not understand the opening mechanism of a trash bin.

4. Some Indians do not put themselves in the shoes of the cleaning lady and do not have much respect for her. 

Seriously, this trash bin after the visit of auditors / consultants leaves me speechless...

PS: Note that no, the trash can was not full.

More about toilets in India here.

You know that you have been living in India for a long time (and that you have watched too much of Game of Thrones) when you have the following nightmare:

You are in a rickshaw following your husband, driving his bike. At the signal you get down – for some reason you are wearing the same night-wear as in reality, a grey t-shirt, except that instead of stopping at your waist it goes  mid-thigh. You give a big cheek kiss to your favourite Indian and he almost pushes you away – a normal behaviour with many Indian men who fear public displays of affection (see this post) but not this one (you’ve not married him for no reason!).

A bit distraught you go back home, some kind of slum habitation, two-three rooms with mud walls and a plastic tarp for a room, in which you have just moved in after leaving your current apartment. There you rummage frantically through your cupboard, looking for your brown salwar (some kind of ‘Aladdin’ pants Indian women wear under their tunics).

Two men arrive and you hide. Then you think that you have done nothing wrong and therefore they can’t do anything against you! The confidence level is back, and so high that you go and tickle the three bulky guys who stand guard: “you and with your big-muscles and your tiny-brain you are not scaring me!”

Keeping calm, they just answer: “it’s not us you should be afraid of but them”. And there you see an army of women in sari uniform walking towards you and they beat you up for your shameless behaviour! Some kind of guardians of decency...