Just Call Me Mister Bob

The thing I find most odd about India is the whole male-dominated society thing. Yesterday morning, I decided I was going to test it. I didn't address anyone until they had addressed me. All of the staff addressed Bob with a "Good morning, Sir" or "Good morning, Mister Bob." I got a smile. When we got down to the restaurant for breakfast, they addressed Bob for seating and asked him if we wanted coffee. I made it through the first 45 minutes of my morning without being verbally acknowledged, while Bob had chatted with at least ten people. I told him about it and he laughed; it was true, I was rarely spoken to during this trip. Even the doctors address Bob when explaining things; if Bob is not in the room, they address me directly. If I ask a question or greet someone first, I get a direct and friendly response. On the contracts for surrogacy, the surrogate's husband has to sign his approval. There is a male doctor at the clinic who told me that the female patients don't talk to him. They talk to the female doctors; he talks to the husbands. So strange...

We had an uneventful flight to Goa and arrived at our hotel safe and sound. The hotel is amazing; they greet you with a coconut and a straw so you can drink the juice. The pool is huge and multi-leveled. The rooms themselves have these amazing bathrooms that include an outdoor shower. The rooms, however, are very musty smelling. The first room they took us to was unbearably musty so we moved on to one that is better.

Last night, we took an hour long cab ride to Night Bazaar. We had heard that it was fun; shopping, dancing, food and live music. We had a good time--it was kind of a huge flea market filled with sunburned Europeans and hippies. There are a lot of hippies here!! We saw a woman with the worst sunburn we have ever seen. She should have been hospitalized, not walking around a bazaar.

Today we should find out via email how many embryos end up being transfered. We can't wait to hear!!