Aside from Wednesday afternoon, the rest of the week has been pretty relaxing. (Andi and I took a personal day yesterday, and stayed in bed watching Gilmore Girls and Planet Earth all afternoon; it was glorious.) Wednesday, though, was a different story. I was on my way to class when I managed to get my scarf caught in my bike wheel. It became so tangled that I was soon surrounded by 20 men—two taking apart my bike and 18 watching and giving advice. Standing there helpless, clutching greasy shreds of my new scarf as a team of Indians operated on my bike in Telugu, it was not my proudest moment. And it got even better—after they couldn’t remember exactly how the parts fit back together. I spent half an hour dragging my defective bike across campus to the bike shop, sweating under the afternoon sun and limping in my broken shoe. I’m sure the look on my face was priceless. When it rains, it pours, I guess…but luckily, this is India—and (literally and figuratively) it hardly ever rains.
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