Before I left for India, my father asked me if I’d bought
pressure socks yet.
“What are pressure socks?” I asked.
“They’re so your legs don’t swell up on the flight,” he said. “You’ll be in the air for eight, nine ten hours.”
Pressure socks were supposed to increase my circulation so that my legs would stay the same size. My father was very concerned. He mentioned the socks several times while I was visiting him in Ontario.
“I’m telling you, they make all the difference.”
“Huh,” I said. “Never heard of them.”
“All the stewardesses wear them all the time.”
“Okay.”
“Tell you what. I’m gonna get you some.”
I didn’t insist upon it, but a couple of days before my trip, the Boatman and I went to a Shopper’s Drugmart in Ontario to stock up on toiletries. In India, when your jetlagged, shitting buckets and homesick, I've heard it’s nice to have the shampoo you like. We saw the socks next to all the foot cream. You could get them in black or beige, and they came up to your knees. They cost 26 dollars.
“Did your Dad get you those yet?” the Boatman asked.
“No.”
“Do you want to get them?”
“Well...” I decided it was a little pricey, just for socks. On our way out, we ran into my Dad and his girlfriend.
“We knew you’d be here,” my Dad said. “I’m gonna get you those socks.”
I decided on the black ones, the biggest lady’s size they had for my mammoth, size eleven feet. I tried them on in the bathroom stall at the Halifax airport. They looked amazing with my sneakers. I emailed my Dad a picture. He wrote, "Very nice. Will make you very secure."
Even though I took the socks off in London and forgot to
put them back on, my legs didn’t swell up for the entire trip.
Besides my legs swelling up, my father is worried I’ll get malaria even though there is little to no malaria in Mysore. And he has read about other horrific mosquito illnesses. I had bought myself a little mosquito net jacket that I could wear over my head while I was sleeping.
“How are you going to sleep in that?” my father asked. No, this net jacket wouldn’t do. He came home from mountain equipment co-op with an enormous white mosquito net.
When you hang it from the ceiling, it looks a bit like a
wedding veil. That’s nice for me since I will probably never have my own
wedding veil. I hung it from the ceiling fan. It fell down around 2:30 a.m. In
my next apartment, I’ll be able to hang it up better. But for now I should be
fine. So far I haven’t noticed one mosquito.
I thought that these presents from my dad were quite sweet. He is coming to India in November and will be passing through Mysore to visit. Definitely he will be bringing his very own wedding mosquito net and of course, the socks.
“What are pressure socks?” I asked.
“They’re so your legs don’t swell up on the flight,” he said. “You’ll be in the air for eight, nine ten hours.”
Pressure socks were supposed to increase my circulation so that my legs would stay the same size. My father was very concerned. He mentioned the socks several times while I was visiting him in Ontario.
“I’m telling you, they make all the difference.”
“Huh,” I said. “Never heard of them.”
“All the stewardesses wear them all the time.”
“Okay.”
“Tell you what. I’m gonna get you some.”
I didn’t insist upon it, but a couple of days before my trip, the Boatman and I went to a Shopper’s Drugmart in Ontario to stock up on toiletries. In India, when your jetlagged, shitting buckets and homesick, I've heard it’s nice to have the shampoo you like. We saw the socks next to all the foot cream. You could get them in black or beige, and they came up to your knees. They cost 26 dollars.
“Did your Dad get you those yet?” the Boatman asked.
“No.”
“Do you want to get them?”
“Well...” I decided it was a little pricey, just for socks. On our way out, we ran into my Dad and his girlfriend.
“We knew you’d be here,” my Dad said. “I’m gonna get you those socks.”
I decided on the black ones, the biggest lady’s size they had for my mammoth, size eleven feet. I tried them on in the bathroom stall at the Halifax airport. They looked amazing with my sneakers. I emailed my Dad a picture. He wrote, "Very nice. Will make you very secure."
 |
| The socks |
Besides my legs swelling up, my father is worried I’ll get malaria even though there is little to no malaria in Mysore. And he has read about other horrific mosquito illnesses. I had bought myself a little mosquito net jacket that I could wear over my head while I was sleeping.
“How are you going to sleep in that?” my father asked. No, this net jacket wouldn’t do. He came home from mountain equipment co-op with an enormous white mosquito net.
 |
| Wedding Mosquito Net |
I thought that these presents from my dad were quite sweet. He is coming to India in November and will be passing through Mysore to visit. Definitely he will be bringing his very own wedding mosquito net and of course, the socks.
The End.
So yah, I'm here in Mysore, very safe. Feel a little slow in terms of brain functioning, but better than too fast in terms of bowel functioning. I woke up at 3 a.m. this morning, which I thought was a big success. I am trying to get to know my neighbourhood. So far I have gotten lost every time. Now I have a map. Some of the streets have labels on them and some of them don't. The place where I am staying until the end of the month is on the map on a street with no label on it. My goal for the day is to walk to the yoga studio and back without getting lost. And I'm bringing toilet paper because I haven't yet figured out how they wipe their bum in India without getting everything soaked. Okay, off I go...
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More on Going to India:
Our lives will never be the same Our lives will never be the same, part two Laundry Day |
