Opening a bag of chips in India

The title says it all. You wouldn't think it would be all that difficult to open a bag of chips would you? Well, little do you know that India is a tough place to live in. Even the bags of chips put up some front to make things more difficult for you.

Bag o' chips. For those of you who don't know, you can't eat the actual bag of chips. First you must open it, peel away the outer shell to get at the chippy goodness within. Think of it as the peel of an apple or rind of a melon that protects to stuff inside and keeps it tasty.

Oh, and what's this? I've always found it fascinating that here in India the energy in a food is measured in kilocalories (that's 1000 calories for you non-metric friendly folks). Now, to be honest, there is no difference between a kilocalorie here and a Calorie back home. For those of you who didn't pay attention in chemistry class during calorimetry, 1 kilocalorie = 1000 calories and 1 Calorie = 1000 calories. It's all in that capital C. Why they did it I can't rightly say, but I like to think that there were a couple of chemists back in the day who liked to screw with people's heads (more so than usual).

Anywho, I digress. Let's check out this bag o' chips.

Holy poop! I've seen plenty of bags of chips in my day but none of them were ever as puffed out as this one. Obviously, some bacteria has gotten into my bag o' chips and is producing gas that is puffing up the bag. That... or CHEMISTRY! You may recall that I live in Mussoorie, 'the queen of the hills.' You may also recall that I'm about 6000ft above sea level. The air is certainly a little thin up here and the pressure sure is less (it's like a weight being lifted off your shoulders (not really)). So, let's take a look, this bag was manufactured in Punjab which is about 1200ft above sea level. The bag is sealed in Punjab and makes it's way up to Mussoorie where the pressure is lower. This means there are less gas molecules pushing on the outside of the bag. However, there is still the same amount of molecules inside pushing out. The difference in pressure causes the bag to swell up. The same can be seen in reverse if you boil a little bit of water in a soda can and quickly invert the can in a tub of cold water. Go ahead and try it to see what happens, I'll wait.











Wasn't that cool?

Oh bag o' chips, who knew you were so chock full of chemistry?

Again, I've digressed... onto opening the bag.

It can be quite tricky if you've never done it before at such high elevations. I suggest thoroughly inspecting the bag and getting to know every nook and cranny.

Now, your first instinct might be 'Heck, I've opened bas of chips before. Grab either side and pull.' Right, remember all that extra pressure inside? Do that and it gets released in a fury of potato passion and what you've really done is create a potato claymore. If you prefer to eat your chips rather than have them embedded in your torso I suggest doing it another way.

'How about crushing the bag then?' You might say. No, that's just stupid. Don't do that either.

Instead, firmly grasp the top of the bag with the thumb and first finger of both hands. Simultaneously, pull one hand back towards you and push the other forward, away from you.

Don't be a weenie, just do it.

They are very strong bags here in India.

Success! The bag has been ripped slightly to release the gas inside. Now the crunchy loveliness inside can be had.

Continue to peel the bag until the hole is large enough for you hands to fit inside.

Ta. Da.

You know, that was actually quite easy.

Enjoy your chips. I know you're jealous that I'm eating them and you're not. MMMMMMM tastes SOOO good.

More Apologies

Seems that I offended some parties with my last post. You see, it turns out that the way it was written it sounded like I hiked to Flag Hill all by my lonesome. That, however, is completely not the case. I actually went with a friend who works down at dorms. Her name is Priya and she's pretty cool. We had fun trying to find the bloody top of the hill and climbing straight up.




And in case any one thought I was lying:

Sorry

I seem to be updating my blog about as often as Abe Lincoln celebrates new birthdays. I sincerely apologize for the lack of decent updates. I don't really have much of an excuse besides the fact that I have just been plain lazy. It's turning towards the end of the semester. MY grade twelves have finished their curriculum and took the AP test yesterday. My tens have not finished and have their IGCSE exam papers starting tomorrow with an alternative to the practical. They're freaking out but I think that they should be alright. I'm in dire need of a day off but know it will not come. Just about the only motivation I'm finding anymore is that in just a little more than a month I shall be surrounded by adoring young women all under the age of three.

Well, let me split this up into three pieces. First, my trip over quarter break with Tim (one of the dorm parents) and sixteen ninth, tenth, and eleventh graders. We spent the extended weekend in and around Haridwar, one of the holy cities here in northern India. Being a holy city it is also entirely veg, something we didn't tell the boys until dinner the first night we got there. We spent one afternoon in northern India's premier water park, Fun Valley. Honestly, when we first drove past it I thought it was abandoned. The boys enjoyed it though. I spent most of the day hiding from the sun and sipping on cool drinks. After all of that we spent one night on the edge of Rajaji National Park in a private camp run by a man who was trying to minimize his footprint. The boys' immediate reaction was 'Where's the plug for my laptop‽' (God, I love the interrobang). They didn't warm up to it as much as Tim and I did (tea first thing in the morning brought to your porch is a great way to wake up). We went on safari and saw some wildlife. Supposedly, there are tigers in the park but they are quite elusive. The best we got was elephants from a large distance. Not the most exciting of safaris but I was pleased.

Pilgrims at the Ganga (Ganges).

Scariest roller coaster ever. It went in a tiny circle and nearly jumped the track at each curve.

Waiting for our guides to come back and confirm that the elephants that were fighting have left.

Oh Tim... let this be a lesson to never eat around a game of ping pong.

Safari

Elephants, I promise.

For some reason I was fascinated by the termite mounds more than anything else.

The lodge with no power.

Tea on the veranda? Don't mind if I do.

A few weekends ago was the mela. Basically, it's big festival with lots of food, vendors, and live entertainment. The grade tens set up a stall for henna tattoos and face painting. I graciously offered up my body to be a billboard. I got some strange looks and even a spot on tv. I'm a legend. So, what did the kids think of my new fashion?

'Uhhhh......'

'Mr Chawaal, you're crazy!'

This past weekend I finally made it up Flag Hill. It's literally a five minute walk from my house and I've just never gone. It's named such because the Tibetans in the area climb up there to hang their prayer flags. They're supposed to find the highest point possible so I guess this works for them. Well, I found the turn off pretty easily but lost the trail immediately due to the fact that 1) I've never been there before and 2) we've been having forest fires and the hill had been charred pretty well. So, the trail ran out and there was some backtracking, some finding a new trail and losing it again and, finally, some good ol' chud climbing (hey, it's supposed to be the highest place so when in doubt, climb up). Eventually, the mysterious place was found and many pictures were taken. I followed the trail that I found up there back down and came to find that it actually begins right next to the road. Some boy scout I am.

tWait, wait, wait. Why do they call it 'Flag Hill?'

Forest fire in the distance. A little over a week ago there was one on the trail behind my house not more than 50 metres away. About a week before that there was one right up to the road that is just below my house. Obviously the fire smells my manliness and doesn't dare creep any closer. I'm a regular Smokey the Bear. More like I wrestled him and sent him home crying to mama bear and I became the forest's new jeans wearing, ranger hat toting, pic-a-nic basket stealing, no shirt spokesperson.

A nice place for a picnic no?

Close ups of the flags.

Notice the char.

And thus, my faithful audience, another chapter winds to a close. What will be next for your handsome young host? Who knows? Maybe I'll be playing French songs on the accordion while a coworker sings or I'll wrestle sharks. Mayhaps I'll even clone Sandra Bullock, fit her with cybernetic implants and send her forward in time to create the first terminators who then be sent backwards in time to give me the knowledge and the know how to clone and add cybernetics (notice how I didn't say anything about teaching me time travel???). The future (or is it the past?) holds the answer.


How the hell did I make it through this post without referencing chemistry once?