So, our adventure begins. After assuring ourselves that the toilets at both Abu Dhabi and Bangalore airport were satisfactory (even excellent; pictures to follow), we arrived in, as Andy McNab would say, shit state, after about 19 hours of travelling, indecently early on Friday morning, after a most amusing cab drive with a cabbie named Suresh, who doesn't believe in indicating, but has all the more faith in honking.
The clinic is situated in a suburb full of lazy cows (yesss! There are holy cows in the road!). At the moment there are no other RSI patients here, so I've got nobody much to talk to, however the staff are extremely friendly, though the accent takes a bit of getting used to (and I thought Irish people were bad!).
The "cooking facilities" turned out to consist of a single microwave in my room, so I take my meals in the cafeteria on the roof, staffed by tiny friendly ladies, and with an incredible view of the surrounding scrub brush and electricity cables.
My plans to become enviably slim through moderate, ideally not life-threatening diarrhoea may come to nothing (though I haven't given up yet) - the whole clinic is incredibly clean, and the tap water is bloody drinkable. Huh.
A fashionable tan also seems out of the question, since foreign patients are not encouraged to leave the clinic alone (though we agreed that tans are vulgar, right, Rox?). As a result, I'm a bit cooped up. Please send books. (A woman cannot live on Gothic grammar and Indo-European poetry alone, however impressively intellectual she may try to look.)
Dr Sharan has diagnosed me with thoracic outlet syndrome (google it if you can be arsed), and treatment has begun; I'm to have myotherapy, yoga and Alexander technique teaching (taught by a former patient)! Two gentle, softly-spoken girls called Jeshma and Manjula (yesss! Like in the Simpsons!) are in charge of myotherapy - you wouldn't think to look at them that they could inflict such pain! I've got a lot of trigger points (stiff points in the muscles), and they need kneading to death. It hurts.
Oh, and I'm staying at the clinic, so all letters, presents, awards, small fluffy puppies etc may be addressed here:
Recoup Neuromusculoskeletal Rehabilitation Centre
#312, 10th Block,Further Extension of Anjanapura Layout
Bangalore, Karnataka
India 560062
I haven't found a post office yet, and since my laptop died, I've only got internet access when the nice admin guys lend me their computer, so communication may be sporadic and somewhat impersonal. Apologies.
There is a variety of local fauna observable from the roof; apart from the cows, wild dogs roam the grass. Only the thought of Millets-Sam, and his weird and smelly behaviour after his rabies shot, prevents me from flinging myself off the roof to play with them. Little birds flit about, trying to get in through the windows, stupid bastards - Darren's dad would love this ornithological hotspot!
India is fantastic for vegetarians! Although, when approaching Abu Dhabi, I found myself watching a desert sunset, and thought, "let me off! I want to go there!", I doubt the food would be as good. The tiny friendly ladies smile and serve me incredibly good food, though I have to carry tissues at all times, since the spices make me snotty. Sometimes the tiny friendly ladies (very tiny; about the size of my gran, or even smaller!) come up to me and give me Indian sweets! (Their beautiful saris make me wish I looked a bit Oriental like Roxanna, so I'd look good in a sari. Stupid homogenous Scandinavian genes!)
Thank you, come again!
P.S. Books are welcome. Please don't send anything expensive, as I may have to leave some behind - maybe something from Oxfam?
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