India 2012: First time to Bandra

On the Way to Bandra: Taking street stall shopping to a whole new level

Bandra, a inner suburb of Mumbai is one of the places to be - to live, to eat, to go out. There's definitely a different feel to it; yes, it's still lively (the traffic sucked trying to get to the place) but there is a certain charm to the area. Apparently, Bandra is the only part of Mumbai that has cobblestone streets. Trees hang low and there are streets lined with delicious looking restaurants and dessert places. It's neighborhoody.

I think I'm going to have to move from the central, corporate-y part of Mumbai to Juhu beach and the surround areas to get to know ohh shall we say the 'Brooklyn' of Mumbai. There are just so many places in South Bombay and the City that I STILL MUST SEE! Unfortunately, sometimes work gets in the way of life.

More Street Side Shopping

But now I'm going to start exploring more of India, so I may have to put Mumbai to the side for now...

India 2012: Random Musings

Mumbai Taxi with a Message

You know about my obsession with India taxi drivers. We'll I just had to take this picture. Take a look at the sticker on his dashboard:

"SPITTING SPREADS TB: DO NOT SPIT"

I guess you have to be here to find this amusing. Spitting. It's a fact of life for many people here. Big fat globs of spit out of auto rickshaws, taxi windows, car doors. Spit while walking down the street, cutting a guy's hair, biking. Lots of spit. What makes it even better is the red bettle nuts that stain the spit (and one's teeth) a deep, earthy red. Actually, I haven't seen it as much this time around. It was rampant in South East Asia though, especially Burma/Myanmar. So yes, please follow the wise of the sign, "DO NOT SPIT." Thanks

Monday Dinner

On a totally separate note. Monday I had the biggest craving for udon soup with a half cooked egg. Couldn't find any nearby, so I went for the buffet instead where I was promised sushi. Ermm the sushi was questionable, and I think they accidentally used soy sauce in the balsamic vinaigrette instead of, well, balsamic vinegar. But they did have some halfway descent fresh salsa, which made me nostalgic for summer tacos with fresh guac and salsa on my Hope Street front stoop. And halfway through the noodles I realized the buffet had all the fixin's of a good salami sandwich (a throwback to my ATDP summer courses and ferreting out the best salami and avocado sandwiches on baguettes around the UC Berkeley campus. Double fat = double good). So I made myself some mini sandwiches and at least had my fill of nostalgic delights.

What I didn't mention was that after eating I finally got over my dizzy-nausea spell caused by a 30 minute swimming session - first exercise in I don't know how many months. Kind of pathetic.

Dubai

At People. Yes that's Taoi Cruz, and yes he sung only two songs wtf

Burj Khalifa. It's really amazingly beautiful. Impressive

What to say about Dubai. I could talk about the crazy clubs and bottle service (yes sparklers are included in your vintage Dom). I could talk about the largest mall in the world, Dubai Mall. It has everything (except a pinkish bridesmaid's dress fyi). I could even talk about the Burj Khalifa (it comes out as Burn al Arabe on an iPhone...and that's when I accuse friends of being racist). But instead, I think I'll talk about what seems to be a new obsession of mine: Drivers.

Taking a taxi in Dubai is like night and day or day and night with the experience in India.

India: Black and Yellow no a/c taxis dominate the street. The little Fiat taxis are way too small for people who sit up tall. They have cute little meters outside of the left hand front window - a sort of opposite mailbox. A passenger is inside? Flag gets swung down. Shock absorbers? What are those? However, there are many springy springs in the cushions of the backseat; think astro bouncy castle. Did I mention that many are non a/c...and that's it's getting hot in Mumbai?

The drivers of this taxis possess the most impressive skill of squeezing between two cars, the public bus and the center divide (and you wondered why the side view mirrors have been taken off all the taxis!). There were only two times so far that I thought I was a goner (a private car started edging into our non-existent lane. It was then that I really wished there were seat bents in the back seat. Did I mention the decoration? India drivers know how to decorate their cars, from the paintings and stickers on the exterior to orange tiger print or flowers in the interior. I actually happened across a great little article about just this topic.

Incense is sometimes burned, a little disco ganesha might be on the dashboard, and most likely than not, some type of Indian music is blasting on the radio, only to be rivaled by the incessant honking of the driver's and his compatriots' horns. And it was only today that it hit me: damn Dubai really is soulless in so many ways (I really must take the time right now to say how much I enjoyed meeting the people I met while I was there. THEY were great, Dubai...well I still can't imagine how I'd ever fit in).

Dubai: these cabs are clean, sleek, with blasting a/c. If I were a guy I could probably tell you the make and model of the car (it wasn't so impressive. I get the impression that it was a Toyota of some sorts though - not at all competing with the porches, Ferraris, and Bentleys I saw line the streets). All the taxis come with fancy touch screen meters (but no cc accepted either fyi). And fast. Traffic is fast, drivers are fast, zooming across stretches of never-ending highways, not a single sidewalk in sight many times. Yes, perhaps drivers do follow the 'guidelines' of the street lines more often than in India; but most of them driver with the wheel in one hand, cellphone in the other it seems.

These drivers are Indian (I can't get away), Pakistani, and I'm sure a lot of other. One thing to be sure, none of them are Emirati, as they get paid way too much by the government every year to have to be a driver (yay Oil). It's actually quite pleasant to be zoomed along going from one large building to the next; you certainly don't come out dripping with sweat.

But as I said. Today it hit me. The biggest, glaring difference for me between these two driving experiences, the biggest 'tell' into Dubai city living and culture, is every time I got into a cab, I'd be asked if I like music. The driver would then turn on the radio to what is probably the most popular radio station in Dubai - Top (American) 40s with a some house thrown in. I think I experienced the biggest culture shock or reverse culture shock or however you want to define it from the radio, the type of music the driver chose. Top 40s? Perhaps it makes sense: why would an Indian driver in Dubai play traditional Arab music or Arab pop? But reeeeelly? I just don't know. I really just don't know.

New York Respite

My sleep schedule is so messed up and that's probably the result of a no-sleep week in New York. But you know what, it was worth it. I got to see a ton of friends, went to some museum, the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens (FINALLY). I ate some pie of the sweet and pizza nature. I saw a lot of Brooklyn, which basically reaffirmed the fact that I'd love to stay there forever (or get an apartment at the very least) if it weren't so damn expensive in my neighborhood. Plus I'm very unsure about all the nannies who have recently popped up. What is this, the UES? Basically...

The things I've missed most about New York is being able to walk around. Perhaps. this is available in many cities, but not in my two current homes (Delhi and Mumbai), not so much at least. But you know what, maybe I'm just lazy now and can't be bothered to walk a few miles a day. I need to re-evaluate my way of thinking and perhaps start walking to work??

India 2012: Take II

Lower Parel, Mumbai, India

Every time I go back to New York, I get an overwhelming feeling of joy as the plane swoops on down to JFK. I love the little islets of Jamaica Bay, I love the lights, I love the furry clouds. And I especially love the drive back to Hope Street, the first views of the Manhattan skyline, the familiarity of guiding the taxi driver 'right, left, right' to my little pale blue home. I don't love the traffic, but New York is definitely not perfect.

More Lower Parel

Coming back to India, I got my very own unique Indiafied welcome --just as warm, if a bit special--consisting of:

I. The Sweat

Take five steps off the plane and I'm drenched. Back at home, I could finally sympathize with people who can't stand the cold. I usually do well with cold weather, but India has spoiled me; I'm frozen in weather under 75 degrees! And India has reminded me that at least for the next two months I don't need to worry about taking a sweater with me 'just in case.'

II. Squitoes

"Hello! You're in India BITE!" I think by my sixth step, not only was I sweating, but I got my first mosquito bite of this trip. Damn you mosquitoes, why do you love me so?

III. Babies

You know the sinking feeling when you board a plane, find your seat, and realize you're seated right next to a baby? Well that happened to me this morning. And not wanting to be the person who steals someone else's seat to avoid the baby on board, I plunked down (you know...there were so many empty seats, why did I bother?). Of course the baby was cute and of course he was fussy. I held my ground and popped on earphones, until after a trip to the bathroom the baby came back bare bottom with his junk hanging out. It's a baby, so not a problem usually, until said bare baby butt rests on my cloth covered seat. Hmmm

IV. Taxi Drivers

You know, I don't even mind drivers trying to rip me off, when compared to those who try to rip me off and waste my time by driving me nonsensically around. Drivers: I live here, so don't bother! HA

V. Red String Bracelets

Yes, I'm not Hindu, but I love the red string bracelets one can get in temples (my bracelet lasted for 6 months). However, it's a bit disconcerting when out find one mixed in with your cumin and coriander spiced banana chips at Cafe Coffee Day. Ermmm...

Even more Lower Parel

Oh India. You know, I've kind of missed you!

India 2012: The Driver

Recently, I've come across many articles about the Indian Driver, the loneliness, the monotony. It's a waiting game for them: waiting for fares, waiting for customers, waiting for hours on end sometimes. I guess it's 'worth' it if these drivers are waiting for a paying fare, but what in the world would YOU do all day if you had to wait for someone for 8 hours? I'd take on extra fares, but that can go terribly wrong if your paying fare decides to call you early. Personally, I'd go crazy if I had to wait around for someone, doing absolutely nothing. The lack of brain stimulus would do me in.

However, long waits are at least paid waits, and this is much preferable to scrambling for fares, competing with other drivers, but not too much to drive down the cost of the fare (if the customer isn't crafty enough to get the meter price). Auto and taxi drivers will even offer to 'wait for free' when they're having slow days.

And it's exactly this waiting that blows my mind, or rather the significance of this waiting: time is cheap. Of course, not everyone's time is cheap in India, but for these drivers, it's their most abundant resource. True, time is not limitless, but in a day, a driver has 24 hours, which he doesn't have to pay for, meaning the cost of going 20km in 30 minutes versus a period over 4 hours remains nearly the same when there isn't any potential for other fares.

Oh drivers...

Kangaroos and Boomerangs

Okay so the closest thing I got to a kangaroo was 'Essence of Kangaroo" in pill form at the airport, but I did see a lot of souvenir boomerangs. And a surprising amount of Sydney for being there for business meetings. One thing that was heartbreaking was that I was invited to the opera on Friday night...the same night that I was taking a flight to Melbourne. Sigh...next time?

Australia is pretty awesome. It's a tad like the US in that it was kind of founded on the same grounds around(ish?) the same times. The big difference is that I suppose we fought for our freedom, and Australia is still part of the Commonwealth. Also, I heard a surprising amount of penal colony jokes. Quaint. Another thing that is kind of frapping (you know what is the the English equivalent of frapping? not shocking, not stunning, hmmm) is that there are so many Asians. It makes sense seeing as Australia's nearest neighbor is Asia. In Australia, the region is called "Australiasia" WTF! HAHAHA

Because of the mining and perhaps the fact that it's so isolated from everywhere else, Australia weathered the 2008 financial crisis rather well. That and China's government when on rampant spending spree to prop up it's economy and thus bought a whole bunch of natural resources from Australia. And what's the most apparent sign of this mining wealth - the good wages but expensive prices of everything. It's rather surprising just how expensive food, cabs, everything is.

But this is definitely mitigated by the FANTASTIC QUALITY OF LIFE in Australia. Not bad you Aussies!

So yes, I saw a bridge, an opera house, a few wharves and harbors. AND I even saw some big o' manufacturing plants!

Damn you, you delicious hot as hell chicken wing!

Then I got on a plane to Melbourne, which is a total college town. Whereas Sydney seemed more refined, Melbourne (or at least the parts I saw) seemed younger, buzzing with life. There are tons of restaurants and bubble tea places, pie shops, churros galore!

The inner suburbs can be compared to the cute neighborhoods of Brooklyn...but not really. A little more small town, Philly? Not sure. But lots of fun.

And then I rode on some old roller coasters and bruised my shins up and down. Fantastic fun.

All in all a great introduction to a land far far away.

Next stop: NEW YORK! And then Dubai :)

India: Gap in India Life

Ya, it's been awhile. But it was because of work travel! So updates (and some pictures to come)

Australia is kind of awesome!

The Indian Sweater Vest

If I were more of an *$$ I would have pictures of the vast array of sweater vests I see on the men in Gurgaon (if not all of India). I'm not sure if it's a winter thing, but they are everywhere. What makes them so incredibly special are the wild colors. When I refer to the colors, I'm not talking about your 'run of the mill' Indian colors of deep purples and greens and beautiful blues and yellows. I'm talking about the in your face day-glo purple pinks, mustards with gold metallic threads woven through, swimming pool blue. And the cable of the sweaters! Thick, patterned, almost home-knitted looking. Where do the men get these sweaters? At Big Bazaar (I'll search next time I'm there...)? Gifts from their mothers? Their girlfriends? Do these disco sweaters catch the eyes of these men on the rack, outshining the sweatshirts, the button downs, the graphic T's? What is it all about?

If I learn anything in India, it must be the mystery of the sweater vest!

On that same note, I'm absolutely excited to go to Egypt and to test my theory on why on their canned sodas the tab pulls off instead of opens into the cans (as one finds in the US and most of the world). I believe it's to prevent any part of the outside can to go into the consumable beverage...there are rampant germs and bacteria in this world. I think it's kind of genius, but I want to know the TRUE reason! I guess I'll find out in a few weeks :)

(next post will have pictures...I promise!)

India 2012: Tampon shopping, a very bling bling experience

Depending on what part of the world you're in, finding tampons is sometimes an exhausting experience, and when a girl wants to be comfortable tampons are the way to go (yes girls, you understand me). So you can imagine my chagrin when I realized that I'd have to go on a quest to find the little buggers here in India. Grrr

First, I called the concierge at the front desk to see if there was a pharmacy nearby (in my experience, the pharmacy is usually the place to go. Nope. Out of luck, no pharmacy in the huge mall right next door to the hotel. I'd have to take a car and ask a driver to go to the nearest one. However, I learned that if I wanted, I could call down and arrange for someone to pick up anything I wanted at the pharmacy. Now that's just ludicrous I thought...No, I'd call down again and ask a girl, woman to woman, where in the world did one find tampons.

The next time I called down, I struck gold! Not only did I get a girl, but she directed me to the mall next door where there was a big department cum grocery store, where I could find all of those goodies. So I slipped on a pair of shoes, threw on my Club Monaco camel wool cardigan with suede elbow patches (thanks Scott!) the very same garment in which I nearly passed out in the back of a cab from heat exhaustion earlier that evening, and took a jaunt to the mall.

The malls in Gurgaon are intense. There are many malls with many stores. After going every which way for a while (I learned here that most people who work in stores just really don't know where other stores or amenities are other than their store), I found Big Bazaar. And even better, I found a whole shelf of pads -- surrounded by aisles of clothes, trinkets and electronics. 'Hmm straaaange,' I thought but at least I was on the right track. A man behind a counter asked if he could help me, to which I replied,

- "Yes, do you also sell tampons or just pads?"

- "Yes there are pads behind you?

- "Yes but do you also sell tampons? Not just pads?" Gesture to the piles of pads on the shelf

- "They are right there" Gesture to the same humongous pile of pads on the shelf

- "Yes but those are pads, do you also sell tampons"

- "You want diapers?"

- "No, not diapers. I'm looking for tampons. You know...pads and tampons"

- "Ohh Whisper brand, yes they are in the grocery section"

- "No, not a brand, tampons. I want tampons"

- "Maybe if you can explain their function to me...?"

(To which point I thought...'Should I really say, you know every month women stick them into themselves to stop the flow of blood....usually men are kind of grossed out by the whole process but since you asked...')

- "Ermmm same function as pads," I decided to stay instead

- "OHHH yes, they are also in the grocery section to the left. So how about you look at some jewelry. It's 60% off."

- "Jewelry??? No I don't want to look at jewelry"

- "But very nice jewelry, good sale. I show you jewelry now. 60% off"

exit Kiyomi

But at least I found them AND discovered a treasure trove of grocery goodies under the Ambiance mall:

Buy this container AND receive a free kilo of sugar! Now that's what I call a deal!

Every samosa seller's dream: 5 gallon jugs of sunflower oil

Rice by the kilo flavored with mother hands, baby hands manly hands, store clerk hands, everyone's hands!

And I found a mini photo studio which does passport size photos. Even more amazing (spoiler alert if you have a birthday coming up soon), I can get my face printed on a heart shaped pillow!!! Amazing. Sigh, India is great. So ridiculous and fun. And I've successfully avoided the 12 day "welcome to India" present of digestive track issues. And since I just wrote this, I'll probably get sick tomorrow :)

Mumbai, but I digress

Not sure what this little Assyrian Bull is doing holding up a building in Colaba, but I loves these guys!

After a whirlwind day in Mumbai, which constituted my very first day in India all those years ago (about 1.1 years to be exact), I once again found myself in this rather charming (South Bombay) city, where relics of past centuries and rulers are strewn across the landscape and tall, imposing (not to mention slightly eerie) apartment buildings overlook slums. It is a mix, Mumbai is, which describes India well in many ways.

Thanks to WWII strength blackout curtains, I didn't wake up until 11:45am on Saturday! I don't remember the last time I slept in that late, but maybe my body was telling me 'sleeeeeeep', or maybe it was because I found this pretty awesome site, The India Tube, and spent hours looking up cool , hip places to see in India. Oops.

I have no idea why I thought I could walk the 12km from Parel to Colaba; the doubt in my Indian friend's words so heavy, I could feel it across the Internet and countless time zones away (how do you count a half time zone anyway? I'm 10.5 hrs off from New York for anyone who cares). And he was right. Unless you're in Colaba and a few other parts of town, Mumbai is just not a walking city. India is not a walking country. It just isn't done. I already touched upon this topic before, so I won't go into detail, but the infrastructure just isn't set up in a manner that allows for easy walking, easy public transportation for that matter.

After weaving my way through a few bric-a-brac market places, past stalls selling samosas freshly fried in deep pans of oil, I found myself on the most depressing, busy street ever, a street that follows the train track, the metro track-word to the wise: the doors of the metro don't close-corrugated metal sided and roof shacks and a whole bunch of wood paneling/floor shops. At least I know where to go to get hardwood floors if I ever decide to redo an apartment in Mumbai, but after passing the fifth shop, my resolve to get some exercise died, along with all of the spare fresh air in my lungs, and I hailed a taxi. BEST DECISION OF MY LIFE

Colaba is what one sees of Mumbai when one is a tourist. This by no means detracts from the true beauty of the place, however. There are some quite amazing buildings in the area, left over from British colonial times, blackened, which only makes the buildings look cooler. Trees shade the sidewalks, their branches reaching down like tentacles that gentle brush the heads of passerby-ers. Those coupled with heavy stone paved roadwork, well how could it not invoke the feeling of being in another era. This Mumbai, South Bombay, well it pulsates with pedestrian life and perhaps that is why a like it so much. I like walking cities. I like to meander, to explore, to aimlessly wander, without too much risk of being hit by an oncoming bus or sideswiped by a kamikaze rickshaw.

As for food, well if you're going to India not as a backpacker (because this meal cost more than 3 or 4 nights of backpacker accommodations) and are DYING for a salad, go to Indigo near Taj Mahal Hotel. They also do what looks like decent desserts and bakery items, pastas, etc. My new love are sprouts. Not like the bean sprouts with white semi-translucent stems, but sprouted beans and lentils of various sorts (it reminds me of my grade school science project: 'The Effect of MSG on Mung Bean Sprouts'. Summary of findings: Not good). Furthermore, try their chickoo shake.

Next I did some high fashion shopping at Bombay Electric. The first time around I failed to find this little boutique and instead found the intense, sprawling slums that are a little south of Taj Mahal. Bombay Electric is Mumbai's equivalent to Opening Ceremony, promoting modern, edgy, avant garde-y fashion design. It was a cool store, but unless I missed something, quite small with limited inventory. Or maybe I'm a spoiled New Yorker. One thing that I did successfully find there was the magazine, Motherland. It's associated with The India Tube and is a bi-monthly magazine that brings a fresh perspective on trends, issues, etc. in India. I truly look forward to their next issue.

After my shopping expedition (which required some sleuthing on my part to locate a paper shop, that's praises I overheard while sitting in the courtyard of BE), I made my way to Britannia, a Persian-Indian restaurant. Once I got there, I realized my stupid mistake, it being Saturday, and Britannia of course being closed. SIGH

But no matter because a cab appeared out of nowhere to whisk me 'home'. And that's when I realized:

A FREAKING BIRD, whose cousins I so deftly avoided all day, SHAT ON ME. And not only shat on me, but on my new white cotton-silk shirt. Literally seconds before I hopped into the cab. SHAT ON ME. As I snapped out of my paralysis of seeing the mess on my arm, my senses went into overload. First thing registered: oh my god, I can feel the wetness on my arm. Second thoughts, 'GET IT OFF! KFC the bird! Flying Rat, bird diseases'. I was so close to wiping it onto the nearest thing (re: nuclear green upholstery of the car), but stopped myself in time. Luckily the driver conjured up some ominous looking rags that no more gained nor lost from the addition of one more substance.

'Crap,' I thought. 'Crap crap crap!' (literally) So much for my being an adult who can wear adult clothes. But then again, perhaps a delicate white shirt was not exactly the best choice to wear during a Mumbai adventure. Case in point:

1. A bird shat on me

2. My black backpack, rubbed black dye into my shirt

3. Other mysterious speckles made its way on my shirt through the course of the day

4. In Mumbai you sweat and there are a lot of cars/dirt around. This combination comes off onto your clothes (not to be gross but I think I've crossed that point already so no matter)

= ruined shirt, or a shirt that at least the hotel's dry cleaning services could do nothing for. Absolutely no single stain was removed. Last hope is go back to New York, whenever I actually get to go back, and take it to the very best.

But I digress...no I don't! That's what I find so amazing about being in new places, or experiencing in general. All the little things, the mundane but absolutelyfreakinghilarious. A bird shat on me. When I finally get something dry cleaned-in the land of silk saris-it doesn't work. I over paid a rickshaw driver x4 to get to me to correct airport terminal after making an almost fatal (travel-wise) mistake-after having to take taxi the last km to the airport because my first rickshaw broke down. One thing about overpaying is that the driver drives FAST. He made my day, for he got me there on time, and I made his by grossly overpaying him, and in the end gladly overpaying him especially as he touched the fare to his meter and said what was probably a little pray of thanks. Even taking a bite of an ominous looking and tasting airplane dessert and thinking, 'this is probably going to haunt me later,' but still eating a bit more: hilarious. I mean, why not. It's really what life is anywhere, and I can only hope that I will always be able to see the ridiculousness of situations, experiences, people, MYSELF! I can only hope that I will never take myself too seriously, will never not be able to laugh at something later, even though it boils my blood now. Life: take it with a grain of salt, right?

(oh yeah, so I'm being horrible with pictures and even worse will long rambly posts that next to no one will read. But I realized that at least I'll be able to remember all the little things about my trip here :D )

India 2012: Food and TV Commercials

Okay first of all...yeah yeah I need to take some better, more interesting pictures. Okay okay. But I decided to pack 'light' and not bring my digital camera, after not using it once in South East Asia. However, I did bring my backpacker's backpack, my heavy duty hiking boots, and a rain jacket, 'just in case' I went somewhere fun. Now I'm kind of regretting not bringing my waterproof pants since I'm itching to go to NEPAL for a weekend (as in a day and a half). YES! But I'm not sure how I'm going to explain my unusual carry on to my colleagues.

Anyway, back on topic. My favorite dish I've had so far in India is tandoori jhinga (prawns)--giant Cochin prawns. Maybe I've mentioned these little critters before, but they are THAT GOOD! But you know what I really want; raw veggies. As in a salad.

A pure, simple salad. My arugula salad with pear, thinly sliced onions, and shaved parmigiano reggiano, dressed with balsamic vinegar/olive oil and salt and pepper. Delicious sweet, syrupy balsamic and liquid gold olive oil. MMM that's really want I want. This trip around, I'm 'braving' it and am eating raw vegetables. I'm sure that eventually my luck with run out and I'll have a terrible night, morning, night and morning, since it's always hotel food that gets you sick; you let your guard down and then the food brings you down looooowwww.

Food Discoveries (from India and Beyond):

- Papaya is DELICIOUS! It doesn't smell like dead bodies when it's actually fresh

- Dragon fruit is quite possibly the most anticlimactic fruit ever. It's beautiful on the outside, beautiful on the inside, and tasteless all around. SIGH. And I was so excited to see that they're a dollar in South East Asia. I thought I'd GORGE.

- You can never eat too much papad

Commercials! India Style!

Commercials in India are hilarious. Lots of cultural specific references, lots of making fun of Indian stereotypes, lots of singing and dancing!

I guess a good song and dance can sell anything. Nope it's not just contained in Bollywood movies (okay not really the legit thing but you get the gist). FANTASTIC FUN! HA

And you know how lightening and whitening creams are all the rage. Well ever heard of whitening deodorant? This isn't even the first commercial I've seen. Dove is jumping on the bandwagon, following in the whitening and brightening deodorant footsteps of Nivea. Hmm wonder if it works HAHA

India: The Familiar, the Funny, The Fantastic

So in my last post I was going to talk about the differences and similarities between this 'trip' and my previous one, and I kind of forgot to talk about the similarities.

India does not feel like home; it is not a familiar place. Yet oddly enough I find myself falling into bouts of nostalgia from time to time from the little things that I see or experience.

One of the most memorable scenes I have of India are men getting shaves on the side of the road. Noses tipped in the air, these men nonchalantly expose their necks to deadly sharp straight razors as people closely pass by, not giving any notice to this manly ritual taking place. Every time I see this I think "hmm now I could use a a shave on the back of my neck," but then I remind myself that I am indeed growing out my hair, a shave being rather contradictory to those plans.

And a little more than a year after I first arrive to India, I find myself back in Pune to attend another wedding-related festivity within the same family (yes people did wonder, "This girl again? Where does she keep popping up from!?") It's kind of incredible that I totally remembered a lot of members of the family, I remembered the house, I even remembered a little bit of the geography of Pune...I was even going to go back to Vaishali, a well touted eatery, but the sleepies got the best of me, and I slept a good part of Saturday. And you know what! I saw CAMELS! walking on the street. The first thing I saw in Pune last time was an ELEPHANT! HA! Oh city wildlife

Perhaps the most fun, exhilarating everyday experience comes from taking auto-rickshaws around town. Auto drivers have a special language. Driving shouldn't work in India in theory, but these drivers are so seasoned, are so adept in navigating cow and pedestrian strewn roads, that somehow they get their passengers to their destinations in one, jolty piece. If a foreigner ever tried to drive, it'd bring down the whole driving system!

In other news, I'm finding Indian news to be uber sensational. Top stories in the headlines:

- Baby Falak is undergoing more surgery after being brought in severely abused. There is daily updates on her condition

- An Indian general is being forced to retire after 1. being found to have lied about the year he was born, 2. after it was determined that he was born in 1950 not 1951 (not sure about the cutoff...62??)

- Members of the government have been suspended after other members of the government used their phones to video taped them watching porn on their mobile phones.

Literally the news is full of these three topics!

And finally, since I'm in India, I get these security warnings updating me about all the potential threats I can face while here (thank our upgraded travel services for that one). And what did I get a few days ago:

"Warning: Valentine's Day Unrest!!!"

Apparently a small minority of religiously conservative people have launched attacks on all things Valentine's including ransacking stores selling offensive red and pink goodies, ripping up V-day cards, and assaulting couples in love. It's in response to the ever more popular trend of celebrating this commercial, foreign holiday...kind of brings the whole Anti-Valentine's Day sentiments that plague pessimistic New Yorkers to a new level. (I gotta say, I just got a notice about the car bomb that went off in front of the Israeli embassy...so I guess these notices are more useful that I first thought)

More later. I'm off to bed!

India 2012: Week 1

A room with a view of one's own

India. Ahh India. So foreign but oddly familiar too. For one, working in India is very different than backpacking in India.

Backpacking, you're in the hustle and bustle. You're flagging down auto-rickshaws and negotiating fares. You're surrounded by people, you're breathing in smoke and smog, exhaust and exhaustion. You're soaking up the vivacity of the cities, the energy. You're hot and sweaty and dusty and stressed. It's very intense, this India, it's harrowing, but you're definitely in the center of Indian life.

Working, you're chauffeured and coddled. Cars are booked for you ahead of time, hotels are arranged for you, tea is poured for you, and even toast is buttered for you. Any means of public transportation is unthinkable, instead BMWs pick you up from the airport. You hire a driver and car for the whole day; a driver who waits for you in the parking lot until you call to indicate your next destination. Cookies are waiting for you at your hotel 'home' and food from around the world can be ordered up.

Work India seems like you lead life in a sterile plastic bubble, it's seems like a faker India. But, reflecting upon work life more, I'm starting to believe that it's not a faker India but a different side of India. And one that is probably, in more sense than one, a lot more authentic than the Backpacker India.

In Work India, I'm not looked upon like another tourist dollar. I'm a resource, I'm a worker, I'm a person of some suspicion but also interest. I am a foreign consultant who is here to do something yet unknown. But isn't that how all projects start? Aren't all consultants suspicious characters to a degree? And I realize, I'm not in any way receiving special treatment. Chai-wallas are a way of life. My colleagues and clients don't traipse around the city, death defyingly making their way through the mass of weaving cars on the road. No, they take a car to from one building to the next, buildings that essentially face each other across a street. Because that's what one does.

This life may be easier, but it's also not a show put on for a foreigner's pleasure. It's not staged nor rehearsed. It's just everyday comings and goings by people who are trying to make a living. And that, I've come to realize is something that I can appreciate. I've always maintained that I want to work in another country and be a working, contributing member of society, and I suppose I could say that I'm doing just that, if on a short term basis.

Work India may not be as 'culturally interesting' as Backpacker India, but then again, maybe it is. It's incredibly fascinating and stimulating to work in a place where knowing cultural nuances is important. And I've come to realize that while street food in South East Asia is quite possibly the best dishes one can find in these countries, there's something to be said about quality ingredients found is more established, well, establishments in India.

I can't wait to see some more of India, an opportunity I'm fortunate to have over these next few months. And I can only hope I obtain an even better understanding of the many cultures, societies, foods, and maybe even languages that make up this great country.

(and for those who wonder, the picture is from my room window. A WEDDING procession. Five days in India, and I've already bore witness to a wedding! HEHE)

India 2012: The Beginnings

So it all started with an email chain. A chain that started with an innocent inquiry of where I'd be located come the end of my vacation in late January 2012.

After three and a half weeks in South East Asia (more on that in a later non chronological post), I was getting a bit anxious of knowing if I'd be in London in a hotel, London in a corporate apartment, back in Bangkok or Vietnam. To my surprise surprise SURPRISE, I found out: Plano, TX.

Okay I thought, that's definitely not the guaranteed international location that I had been promised for my next project. Sure, Texas is most definitely a whole different world than what I know, but erm, let's just say not as exciting of a place than I had expected.

After a strew of "Kiyomi freak out iMessages" to a certain, very patient someone in Nigeria, I wrote a back to the stress inducing email, which set off a game of phone tag during a series of Vietnamese bus rides.

And then it came: India. India for 4 months. Delhi for 4 months. And after accepting, I found out Gurgaon (40km from Delhi) for 4 months. Hmm, I thought, well at least it'll be an adventure. And plus I know getting a visa is relatively painless. And at least I love the food. But there goes my dreams of either 1. finally getting custom made suits in SEA or 2. seeing all my friends in Europe (after what seems like years! Yes, I miss you guys!)

So after a WAY too short two weeks at home (HOW I LOVE YOU NEW YORK), I found myself flying to Delhi via Frankfurt over a mild winter weekend and here I am!

More on India: second first impressions next!