Chaos Theory.

Things don't make sense in India. The streets are so chaotic, it's like the white bread in my head is saying, "But when is this all going to get organised?"

It's like, the New York of Indonesia. Horns and the people and the thick heavy smells and the chaos. This guy was slopping around a huge bucket of paint, cigarette hanging from his lips. Dripping white paint from his oversized brush all over the tiled floor.

His ladder was missing rungs and he didn't care. Dave would have laughed. Even I could see he wasn't doing it properly.

Wasn't doing it properly.

Isn't it funny how we go about the world with all this pre-conceived notions and ideas around the right way of how things should be done?

These cute taxis are everywhere. The streets are CRAZY ... there's no traffic lights, people just zoom around being a buttinksi and getting away with it.

Hey Stylers ... look what I found!

We trudged around yesterday trying to get SIM cards for our phones, so we don't rack up international roaming costs. I felt like just tracking down some call centres and walking in, saying hi to the people who ring me all the time, asking them advice on where to get a good deal.

We went into this poky place, got sent away to get our passports left at reception at the hotel, came back, got sent away to get our photos taken for the SIM card application forms, came back, got sent away with instructions to call this morning and see if they could be activated.

It takes ages to get anything done ... this kind of thing would drive me nuts at home but pretty quickly I'm learning to surrender and re-surrender to the madness and insanity of it all.

(Lucky I'm quite practiced in surrendering to insanity.)

Smaggle wrote about our photo-taking experience here.

Kelly arrived late last night and I haven't seen her yet, but just read her post about leaving her children here and it made me relate and tear up. Can't wait to see her face, and swap "I miss my kids!" stories.

Last night I was almost delirious with tiredness. World Vision India Sam took us for dinner at this cool festival thing. I ate this.

I can't remember what it was called, but I know it was a butter masala pancake thing with this spicy potato on the inside. SO YUM .... but I didn't engage with any of the three dips. I get uncertain when it comes to the possibility of ruining my palate when I'm on a good wicket. (Wow - stupidest description ever. Your job is safe, food bloggers!)

Last night I collapsed into bed and read emails from Dave. He asked me to post more pictures of food ... ok, hon, I will!

This authentic Indian food was bought from a shop on the way home last night:

I am here. I will be blogging everything. In order to do that, imma need carbs, sugar and chocolate.

Know Thyself.

Thank you so much for reading, commenting, and encouraging me. I really appreciate it. About to head out to start the day now ... let's do this!