Sunburnt on Christmas

Hmmm. . . so lots has happened since I last updated this thing. . . one of those things was that I got sunburnt. On CHRISTMAS!!!!

OK, so maybe it wasn't actually on Christmas day itself, but I got burnt on the 22nd when there was this Christmas Fair thing so it's practically the same thing, right?

Anyhoo, writhe in jealousy rain/snow-ridden Canadians!!!! *cackles*

Actually, the Christmas Fair thing is a good place to start my stories. So, me, Steve (irishman), Krishna (german girl. I know I know, Krishna is the name of a blue man-god, but Lentil is the name of a small lens-shaped legume, and so there!. . . wait. . . ), Divya (an Indian girl from Chennai who I think is going out with Zeb, but I'm not sure, because nobody bloody here ever introduces their partner as "Lentil, this is my boy/girlfriend so-and-such" but instead just tells me their name and allows me to make a fool of myself later on ('cause I don't do enought of that as is! . . . *cries*)), and Zeb (an American who claims to be Canadian, even thought he's only lived in Canada for 4 Whole Months. . . as Steve says, I've lived in India for four months. Does that make me Indian?). . . dammit, I've totally forgot what I'm saying. . .

Ah yes! So me and some friends decided to go to this Christmas Fair thing. I got a ride on the back of Divya's bike (for future reference, when I say "bike" I mean "motorbike" and when I say "cycle" I mean "bicycles". Just to clarify, because that's what they say in Auroville to differentiate, and at first I was so confused). Before I got on she said "Are you sure you don't want to drive?" and I was all "I've never driven a motorbike before (not counting the mini-bike Dad bought). You're asking me to drive for my first time on Indian roads with two people? I'd rather fly my first airplane into that cyclone from the Wizard of Oz."

So she drove.

We crashed before we got out of the driveway.

The cut on my foot, which didn't seem so bad at first, quickly got infected, because it was where my foot joins my leg, and so kept on bending and reopening and bleeding, then pussing, then flies kept on landing on it when I wasn't looking, and I'm not sure if they were eating me or trying to lay eggs in it, and. . .

Well, being the typical cheapskate that I am, I refused to go to the doctor's, because I was all "It's fine. I'm sure I'm just being a hypochondriac and making a big deal about nothing. Plus, I don't want to pay the Rs 100 ($2.50) for a checkup."

Then, while returning from a party with the same friends and some Brazilian girls, riding with a Brazilian girl, and the Brazilian girl (Adriana) was teaching me how to say "I don't wanna die" in Portuguese, we crashed.

Again!

Gah!

So then I had an oozing but on my right foot, and a purple eggplant-sized knee on my left.

I still didn't go to the doctor's.

I was all ""It's fine. I'm sure I'm just being a hypochondriac and making a big deal about nothing. Plus, I don't want to pay the Rs 100 ($2.50) for a checkup."

Then there's this rash on my hands that started up at the beginning of November. At first I was all "It's fine. I'm sure I'm just being a hypochondriac and making a big deal about nothing. Plus, I don't want to pay the Rs 100 ($2.50) for a checkup."because it didn't itch or anything.

But then, after it stopped peeling and everything, I saw

"Eggs?" I asked Steve.

"What?" said Steve.

"Do those look like eggs growing underneath my skin?" I explained.

"Sorry, I was just too busy looking at the fly nesting in your wound."

Still I did not go to the doctor's.

It was only when Elizabeth (a Malaysian woman who lives fulltime in London) told me "It looks like your cells are duplicating abnormally fast" that I was all

"O my god I have cancer!"

And, already planning how to tell everyone the news that I was dying and deciding whether I wanted roses or dandelions at my funeral, I finally decided that I wasn't being a hypochondriac and went to the doctor's.

After forking out Rs 200 for the checkup and for the creams and antiseptics he gave me, I have to tell you that my oozing fly-nest has finally scabbed over, and he thinks that my hand either has a fungus, or it's having an allergic reaction to one of the veggies I'm preparing. I've been putting a cream on it for the fungus but it's not working, so it's looking like I might have to give up peeling carrots people. . .

Console me.

Anyhoo, I have plenty more to tell you than the complaints about all of my aches and pains (it's the old lady in me. Sorry) but unfortunately, this Internet cafe thing is closing sooner than I had intended, so you'll have to wait till next week for more news.


Happy New Years,
Thanks for all of the holiday emails (they made me laugh so hard that the flies scattered for a moment),

Lurve y'all tons and tons,
Bisous,
Namaste,

Lentil,

The Girl Who's Just Realized That Her Last Blog Update Was About Personal Epiphanies and This One Was About Pus and Cancer. . .