What Is Possible...

The Last Entry

2006-10-05T17:32:00.000-05:00

It is 3:45 in the morning, and all is dark and quiet here in Bangalore. No rickshaws buzzing and honking, no electrical equipment running on the nearby construction site. I’m sure there are animals (and people) of all varieties sleeping on the street outside.

My suitcases are packed and waiting by the door. The cab is arranged for 4:00 AM. In just a few minutes I’ll get a call from the receptionist telling me the car is here.

I’ll quietly wheel my suitcases out of the apartment and lock the door for the last time. I’ll head to the elevator and down to the lobby. They’ll help me with the luggage and I’ll drive off to the airport for the very last time.

It is in this quiet darkness that I slip away and say goodbye to Bangalore, to India, and to this amazing, challenging, and exciting year of my life.

Bandh Together

2006-10-04T11:27:00.000-05:00

Well I thought I had written my last major post for this site, but I was oh so very wrong.

It is Wednesday. I fly out on Friday morning. That’s right, in less than 48 hours I leave the country of India. Is it a routine, carefree day? No. Why would we have a routine, carefree day on my second-to-last day in India?

In the state of Karnataka (Bangalore is the capital of Karnataka), there is a general strike today, called a bandh. From 6 AM to 6 PM there are no cabs, buses, rickshaws, government offices, or cable TV channels. Many restaurants are closed along with banks, shops, and malls. Most essentials such as hospitals, police, and medicine shops will be available, however.

What’s all the fuss about? Well there is a city called Belgaum that a neighboring state believes should be part of it instead of Karnataka. Apparently by no one working, it will send a message to the government that they don’t like this. The problem is, the Karnataka government knows! In fact, they held a legislative session in Belgaum and named it a second capital of the state! What are people complaining about?

So essentially, we have a day of no work, no productivity, a huge monetary loss for thousands of businesses, and even a risk of violence all for a seemingly pointless effort.

The Reuters office is on its emergency contingency plan in which non-critical staff get to stay home. I stayed home and got nearly all of my packing done. What a day! It is just so typical of India, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Top 20

2006-10-01T22:56:00.000-05:00

I’m just 4 days away from closing the India chapter of my life. Rather than go into some long dissertation about if I knew then what I knew now and was it worth it and regrets and all that stuff, I’m going to provide the readers (and myself) with the jilted yet thought-provoking humor and sarcasm we’ve all grown accustomed to over the last year on this blog.

When I was in High School, a friend of mine and I constantly created these Top 20 lists (not unlike Dave Letterman’s Top 10) which we used to basically make fun of our friends, families, teachers, celebrities, and other annoyances. I’m going to use that same format here. That’s right, a Top 20 list about India. Here it is:

TOP 20 – Things I Will and Will Not Miss about India

20. I will miss the light-hearted lilt of the Indian accent. I will not miss trying to talk to people who speak no English, especially when they’re driving my rickshaw or answering the receptionist phone at my apartments.

19. I will miss the warmth and the arresting spice of Indian food. I will not miss the parasites, bacteria, and other undesirables in the food that made me sick countless times over the last year.

18. I will miss the carefree vigor with which Indian guys get their groove on out on the dance floor. I will not miss the vigor with which Indian guys try to cut in line.

17. I will miss the beautifully colored silks and saris worn by nearly every Indian woman. I will not miss the wrinkly, fat skin protruding from beneath the saris of 90 year old women.

16. I will miss the Gold Class Cinema, which had huge recliners and a wait staff when you went to see a movie. I will not miss the Forum mall, where there are three times as many people on an average Sunday night as there are in American malls the day after Thanksgiving.

15. I will miss living within walking distance of the office. I will not miss being within spitting distance of loose cattle while walking home.

14. I will miss getting medicine for next to nothing. I will not miss the hassle and terrible inconvenience involved in obtaining it.

13. I will miss having my laundry done for me and having my apartment cleaned on a daily basis. I will not miss…OK, so there’s nothing I won’t miss about that.

12. I will miss the chance to work with people from all over the world in a job that really challenged me and offered a lot of personal freedom. I will not miss the long, late hours required to be effective when coordinating with colleagues in the UK and the US.

11. I will miss seeing the wonderfully intriguing Bollywood movies on TV. I will not miss the electricity going out right before the climax of one of my favorite shows.

10. I will miss noticing new things about the Indian culture all the time. I will not miss the late-night drums, bugles and firecrackers that are part of their festivals and holidays.

9. I will miss the smells of incense and spice when going through the shops and markets around town. I will not miss the smell of open sewers, cow manure, and burning trash that is almost constant.

8. I will miss the year-round balmy temperatures. I will not miss the year-round pollution.

7. I will miss the cute kids playing cricket in the streets. I will not miss the kids tugging at my elbows begging for money.

6. I will miss the interesting characters I’ve seen on the streets: women wearing saris, all manner of gold jewelry, carrying baskets on their heads; men in dhotis and turbans and wild beards. I will not miss the characters trying to sell useless junk including tiny chess sets, wooden snakes, and fake Rolex watches.

5. I will miss the smiling faces, good-natured attitudes, and curiosity of my work colleagues. I will not miss the false curiosity of people who start out by asking me what country I’m from only to then try to sell me something or scam me out of my money.

4. I will miss my manager, Guy, one of the best managers I've ever worked for. I will not miss some of the support departments on our site (I’ll not name names) who were anything but supportive.

3. I will miss the awesome waiters at 100 Foot Boutique who knew what food I liked, what drinks I liked, and were always very friendly when I came in. I will not miss the fact that this was one of the few restaurants where you could get decent Western food at a reasonable price.

2. I will miss the low cost of auto rickshaws. I will not miss haggling with the drivers about the price and smelling like car fumes after a 20 minute ride across town.

1. I will miss being in close proximity to tons of interesting places like Goa, Singapore, and the Taj. I will not miss being 9,000 miles from my friends, my family, and my home.

The Taj Mahal

2006-09-17T10:53:00.000-05:00

***I started this post about 6 weeks ago. I've just now been able to finish it. Hope you find it worth the wait.***

Last weekend I finally made my way up to Delhi, then on to Agra to see the Taj Mahal. My short trip was an amplified microcosm of my entire experience in India. It was a mix of extremes. Except, these extremes were more extreme than what I’d ever seen before.

My Friday flight to Delhi and the night at the hotel were very normal. It was the Saturday morning train trip to Agra that truly arrested my senses. My wake up call was for 4:30 AM as the Shatabdi Express leaves at 6:15. I quickly got ready, hopped in the cab, and made my way to the train station. As the cab left the hotel, a man flagged the cab down and the driver agreed to let the man sit in the front seat. I did not protest because I needed to make the train. When we arrived at the train station, the man gave the driver about 50 rupees. I asked the cab driver what the fare was. “You give what you like.” Uhhh…OK. I gave him 100 rupees ($2.22).

As I made my way to the station itself, I was on sensory overload. The air smelled of urine, and there were people sleeping on the curb, bundled in blankets, apparently oblivious to the clamor and noise of people, rickshaws, and taxis.

A couple young guys approached me to offer assistance. I had already purchased my ticket, however, so I didn’t need to go where they were telling me. I walked through a dilapidated security area, and waited for the train. It actually arrived and departed right on time. 720 rupees ($16.00) got me a first class seat for the 2 hour ride to Agra.

First class on the Shatabdi Express means wide seats, plenty of leg room, air conditioning, and, as I soon discovered, tea and breakfast. The train moved slowly out of the station, but once we got moving, it began to go quite quickly on its non-stop journey to Agra.

My seat faced the back of the train, so as I ate my Indian-style breakfast and listened to my iPod, I looked out the window and watched Delhi and the Indian countryside move away from me. While I sipped on hot tea from a white ceramic tea cup inside the first class car, the people on the outside, on the other side of the window, were living an existence unlike any I had ever seen before.

I have seen poverty and encountered beggars in Bangalore, but these people were living even below that level of existence. There was an entire village made up of plastic tarps affixed to poles, all under an overpass. You could tell that their conditions were completely filthy and destitute. It was almost too much to take in. I then saw the lowest form of human existence I’ve ever seen in my life.

Right next to the tracks, were people, mostly men, who were defecating. They were squatted down with everything pulled down, defecating out in the open for all to see. Mile after mile went by and countless people were in this same position. Some men were no more than 10 or 15 feet from the train, facing the tracks, with no cover. It was simply unbelievable.

There is one scene I will never forget. There was an open field, quite green and gently sloping upward. Dotting the field were dozens of people, all squatting down and doing their business. I couldn’t help but think that this is how animals live. Animals graze in the field and do their business wherever they happen to be standing. I felt disgust and pity all in one blur of emotion. I took another sip of my tea.

Eventually the train made its way to Agra, and I took a cab into the city. My first view of the Taj was from my hotel room at a hotel called (what else?) the Taj View Hotel. Although I arrived prior to official check in time, they had my room ready in about 20 minutes. I had specifically requested a room with a view of the Taj. Indeed, the desk manager showed me to my room, walked to the window, pulled back the giant drapes and called me to the window. It was he who presented me with my first view of the Taj Mahal.

My first impression was that it was small and gray. This was partly due to the fact that the sky was so gloomy. Plus, the view was partially blocked by some aging buildings. I now know that the reason the Taj looked comparatively small was because we were a good mile or two from it.

I rested a bit from the train trip, and then had a taxi take me to the Taj. Because of pollution risks, cars and rickshaws are not permitted within a certain distance from the perimeter. For that reason, there is a parking area, and battery-powered buses take tourists from there to the Taj entrance.

No sooner had I boarded one of the buses when a young man hopped on the bus and asked if I wanted him to serve as a tour guide. I politely declined, but of course that did not deter him. He persisted for awhile, apparently not noticing that I had said “no thank you” several times and was staring out the window in the opposite direction. I finally decided to deal with the guy once and for all. I turned toward him, looked him square in the eye, pointed my hand at him, and spoke in as stern a tone as I could without yelling. “Sir, I do not want a tour guide. I appreciate your offer, but I just want to see the Taj by myself. Don’t ask me again. Leave me alone.” He looked a bit stunned, and then he scampered off the bus.

There were many others who were just as aggressive whether they wanted to serve as your tour guide or take your photo or sell you something. I never got as stern as I had with the first gentleman, but I did the best I could to get rid of them quickly. When we got off the battery-powered bus, several guys tried to sell me cameras, film, and memory cards for digital cameras. I asked one of them, “Do you think I’m going to come all the way from America to the Taj Mahal and not bring my camera?”

Foreigners have to pay 750 rupees to get in. Indians pay only 210. I paid my 750 and stood in line at the security gate. I had carried my back pack with me, which they searched diligently. They did not approve me taking in my gum, cell phone, or iPod. (I didn’t actually plan on listening to my iPod, it was just there.) So I got out of line and decided to just check my whole bag, taking only my camera and the “free” bottle of water they provide foreign tourists. I again waited in line and was let through.

I walked down a long walkway and turned right to head towards the Taj. As I turned the corner, I could see the giant dome peering at me from above the red, stone building that served as an entry gate. As I made my way through the gate, I finally saw the structure we’ve seen so many times in photos. I wish I could say that moment was breathtaking, but it really wasn’t. I just stood there for several minutes, took a few photographs and took in the view.

As I approached the Taj, what amazed me was how enormous it really is. You can see it in photos, but most photos try to include the entire structure. When you get up close to it, there is no physical way to take a photo of it in its entirety.

You had to take your shoes off or else put these funny little shoe covers on over your shoes. I opted to go barefoot. I took a photo of my bare feet on the white marble of the Taj Mahal.

I was also amazed by the intricate, yet not overly ornate, marble work; a detail you miss if you’ve only seen photos. There is Arabic script surrounding each of the arches, and there are elaborate carvings and inlaid marble throughout. Inside the Taj are the tombs of the King (who built the Taj as a memorial to his wife) and his wife. They do not allow photos inside the Taj.

I guess I spent about two or three hours on the grounds of the Taj. That was enough time to walk around a few times, get a few photos, and see what I wanted to see. It rained while I was there.

A colleague of mine at Reuters said that Agra is the ultimate lowest form of tourism, and indeed it is. People are constantly trying to sell you something: guided tours, cheap trinkets, post cards, rickshaw rides, cabs, and so forth. I got so tired of all this hassle that after I visited the Taj and one other site I just went back to the hotel, did a little swimming, had an Indian dinner and went to bed.

The next day I had to figure out how I was going to get back to Delhi so I could catch my flight back to Bangalore. The hotel was going to charge over $100 for a cab back to Delhi. That was way too much for India. In the morning I got a rickshaw to take me to the train station to see if there were any good trains that could get me there by 5:00 PM or so. Of course, the driver wanted to know if I needed a ride back to Delhi. As “luck” would have it he could get me a cab for around $50. Long story short, I ended up taking him up on the offer.

What a strange experience it was, too. I sat in the back, the driver in the front for nearly 4.5 hours. We tried to converse a bit, but his English was so poor that it was just too much work to carry on much of a conversation. We stopped twice. Once we stopped for gas (I gave him half of the fare so he could fill up) and then we stopped at McDonald’s. It felt like a true road trip at that point. I offered to buy the driver a sandwich. I got the McChicken. Being a good Hindu, he got the McVeggie Burger. Then, it was on to Delhi, then to the airport, then on the plane, and back to Bangalore.

In spite of the challenges that are a part of traveling in India, I was glad I went to see the Taj Mahal. It was indeed such an enormous, beautiful monument in a dirty, broken down city. As I say, it was India in microcosm.

Countdown

2006-09-09T08:35:00.000-05:00

Someone (I’m not sure who because he or she didn’t sign their comment to a previous post) is begging me to come home. Whoever you are, I’m coming home soon!

In just 4 weeks (October 6) I’ll be flying back to the best country in the world. Suffice it to say, I am so relieved to be coming home.

At the start of my assignment to Bangalore, I posted my flight information. Here’s my return flight information. All times are local to that airport. Bangalore is 10.5 hours ahead of St. Louis, London is 6, Newark is 1. Total flight time, including layovers, is 25 hours.

Bangalore to London
British Airways Flight 118
6:30 AM – 12:35 PM
10 Hrs 35 Mins

London to Newark
British Airways Flight 189
2:35 PM – 5:20 PM
7 Hrs 45 Mins

Newark to St. Louis
American Airlines Flight 5317
7:10 PM – 9:00 PM
2 Hrs 50 Mins

I got really sick of O’Hare, so I’m connecting through Newark this time around. Plus I don’t have to change terminals at Heathrow, which is always a nightmare. But still…25 hours? Get me a sleeping pill.

I know my posts have been sparse of late. This is mainly due to a bit of writer’s block, extra hours at the office, and a short trip back to St. Louis. I still plan to put a post up about my trip to the Taj Mahal. I’ll probably have at least one more after that to close off this chapter of my life.

Till then…

Taj Mahal Photos

2006-08-08T21:40:00.000-05:00

Here are a few photos from my trip to the Taj Mahal on July 29. Most of you know what the Taj looks like, so here are some views you might find a bit unique. I'm working on a post to share more about this experience.

Either 'Ore

2006-07-26T14:12:00.000-05:00

I decided to spend the 4th of July in Singapore. (As well as the rest of the week.)

I figured while I’m in India, I might as well try to see another part of Asia. Singapore is about 3.5 hours away by plane. I had heard and read a lot of good things about it, so I was really excited to get to go. The place was downright amazing.

Singapore is a very small country (more like a city-state) that is really just an island south of Malaysia. The population of about 4 million people is made up of mostly Chinese, but also some Indian and other Southeast Asian ethnicities. The city is very modern and westernized. Truthfully, it reminded me very much of an American city (except maybe a little cleaner) with a little Chinese flavor.

In almost every way, Singapore was the antithesis of Bangalore. The streets were clean and free from livestock. The traffic was orderly and efficient. The air, albeit very humid, was breathable. I had a number of choices in terms of western food, including Starbucks! People did not push and shove. I did not have to haggle with taxi drivers to get them to charge the meter fare. The airport was immaculate with tons of shops and restaurants, and even a pianist playing light jazz! The subway system was also very efficient, with escalators making the trips above and below ground much easier, and trains coming every 5-7 minutes.

Because of some odd flight timings, I didn’t do a whole lot the first day I was there except sleep. But the rest of the week I kept very busy. I took a cable car to Sentosa island, which has tons of tourist attractions including a dolphin show, a 4D movie experience, and beaches on the South China Sea. I met a girl there from Switzerland, but she had a boyfriend; a fact she failed to mention until we had been talking and hanging out for over an hour. I did some shopping and went to the zoo at night where they let you see the animals performing their evening routines. I went to some museums and temples, saw a young man and a young woman (teenagers) play the piano with the Singapore Symphony Orchestra, took a boat ride on the Singapore River, went biking on the beach, had dinner on the 70th floor of a nice hotel, and basically just had a great time!

As much as I enjoyed Singapore, however, I’m not sure I would choose to live there permanently. First of all, it is constantly hot and humid there. I don’t mind that for a couple months in the summer in St. Louis, but not year round. Secondly, because the population keeps growing and they have no more land to build on, almost everyone lives in high rise apartments. I saw these enormous complexes where I’m sure thousands of people lived. In one building you have as many people as are in an entire subdivision in the US. Driving down the East Coast Parkway, you see building after building like this. I’d really like to live in a single family home and not an apartment for the rest of my life. Lastly, I do feel some of the rules in Singapore are a bit extreme. Chewing, possession, or importation of gum is illegal and punishable by fine. Drug possession and/or use is grounds for caning and even execution, depending on the quantity possessed. I’m sure that’s a major deterrent, but it borders on cruel and unusual punishment in my opinion.

What going to Singapore did for me was confirm my desire to visit even more places in the world. Next on my list are some of the European countries. It won’t get done this year as vacation time and travel budget are running out. We’ll see what IS possible next year!

Outrage

2006-07-25T22:11:00.000-05:00

I am completely outraged that the Indian government would censor all blogs on blogspot.com as well as other sites. They call it a technological error, and in true Indian fashion, it is taking days to resolve.

Read an article about this here.

For the last few days I had been getting “cannot find server” messages when I tried to go to my own blog as well as the blogs of others on blogspot.com. I could never figure out why. Then I went to a help area where I do my posts and saw some kind of news about folks all over India having trouble accessing blog sites. A Google search later, and I was reading the article for which I provided a link above.

This is yet another example of an attempt at censorship from the Indian government. They apparently don’t understand freedom of speech. First it was their attempt at stifling the Da Vinci Code, and now this.

I am sitting here in my apartment and I cannot even read my own blog. I can post things to the blog, but I cannot read it.

It is so ridiculous to me that a country can effectively shut down an entire network of websites, and yet they struggle to figure out how to deal with the real problems facing their citizens.

India, get your act together on this one!

Dense Population

2006-06-25T13:20:00.000-05:00

The population density of the St. Louis Metro area (I’m considering the metro area as St. Louis City, St. Louis County, St. Charles County, and Jefferson County) is about 1,030 people per square mile. The population density of Bangalore is 7,100 people per square mile. For that reason, the city feels just a bit crowded to me sometimes.

It is my hypothesis that this population density situation is at least partly responsible for some unusual social etiquette. Let me give you an example. While standing in the grocery line in the US, you stand with your cart in front of you, keeping the cart at least 1 or 2 feet back from the person ahead of you. If you don’t have a cart, you keep that same 1 or 2 feet between your body and the body in front of you, if not slightly more. Not so in India. When people are standing in line, they practically put their noses against the back of the person in front of them. If they are taller than the person in front of them, they get so close that their chin is almost touching (or even overtaking) the shoulder of the other person. This is a most uncomfortable experience.

There is also a strong tendency for people to cut in line. This, of course, is a bad habit that we were taught to avoid in elementary school. Indian folks seem to have been absent the day that was taught. I’ve seen so many people cut in line at the drug store, the grocery, the airline ticket counter, the movies, even at the hospital! As you might imagine, people have tried that on me a few times. I think part of it may have to do with the fact that I don’t stand 1 centimeter away from the person in front of me, leading them to think I’m not standing in line at all. I’ve started to get a little closer when standing in line so that people know I’m really there. Even so, people still try to cut in front of me. I don’t stand for it.

I learned how to deal with the cutting in line from a middle-aged Indian man who had to deal with someone cutting in front of him at the coffee shop. He simply gave the person a stern look and said, “Excuse me!” The person took the hint and went to the end of the line. That worked for me with this 300 pound teenager who cut in front of me while standing in line at the movie box office. After my disapproving glare and a firm “Excuse me!” he got behind me, of course standing about ¼ of an inch away.

At Fab Mall (a small grocery) I was waiting in a very long line and two guys tried to cut in front of the woman in front of me. I boldly said, “Hey guys, the line’s back here”. The woman scolded them also. They scampered off to another line. At the bookstore this past weekend, another huge dude thought he’d cut in front of me as well. “Hey man!” I said. He stepped back. I kind of thought this huge dude might follow me out of the store and try to rough me up, but he didn’t. I’ve never had to straighten so many people out about proper line etiquette.

People here also don’t seem to understand proper escalator and elevator behavior. For some reason, people like to congregate at the tops and bottoms of escalators. This is especially true of families with small children running around. When you walk up and stand there waiting to get on the escalator they kind of look at you as if they’re wondering why you’re standing there and don’t just get on! The logistics of getting off the elevator are even more troublesome with loiterers there. You’re at the bottom with no place to go, and you practically have to push people out of the way so you don’t fall over.

The other problem on escalators, not unlike the situation of standing line, is that people don’t stand two steps behind you; they stand on the stair directly behind you, putting their nose in your back (or lower depending on their height and yours). Sometimes they even stand on the step next to you, another particularly awkward situation.

Elevators pose a slightly different problem. The polite thing to do when the elevator arrives is to stand to the side or several feet away from the door to let any current passengers step out before you step in. That is also not done here. People position themselves about 6 inches directly in front of the elevator doors. When the door opens, they can’t seem to figure out why the people trying to get out seemed to be blocked and don’t get off right away. This always turns into a little dance move for everyone exiting and entering.

I think I’m going to create a few signs and post them in strategic locations around Bangalore. “Please stand at least 4 feet from elevator door until current passengers have exited.” “In order to avoid trampling, keep moving once you’ve stepped off the escalator.” “The cash register is not going anywhere. Please keep yourself at least a half arm’s length from the person in front of you.” “If you keep running into the person in front of you when the line moves, you’re standing too close.” “Common sense appreciated.”

DaVinci Disclaimer

2006-06-14T22:05:00.000-05:00

Back in April I was headed back to Bangalore and waiting in O’Hare for my flight to London. I was roaming around a book store and decided to buy a copy of The Da Vinci Code. I had heard some of the controversy surrounding the book, and I knew the movie was coming out soon. I decided to see for myself what all the fuss was about. I started to read a few pages on the plane. The story line was so captivating that I finished the book in three days.

I was sitting in the Leela Palace reading the book, and a hostess who I see regularly came over and asked if I was a Christian.

“Yes, I am.”

“Then how can you read that book?” she asked incredulously.

I gently explained that the book is a work of fiction. I explained that I know what I believe about God and the Bible, and a book written by a finite man would not change my mind. I also told her that I believed that the truths of Christ would stand the test of time as they have down through the ages when there have been challenges far greater than some passing cultural phenomenon. If what the Bible says is true, then no man or book or movie is going to single-handedly defeat it.

She continued making her case, to the point where I began to feel a little uncomfortable, as I was trying to enjoy a quiet dinner while reading a book. I finally cut off the conversation as diplomatically as I could.

Fast forward about a month to May 19, when the movie was supposed to be released world-wide. Most movies have staggered release schedules, and India often does not begin showing a movie until several weeks after release in the United States, so this was a bit unusual. However, I had read in the Times of India that several local Christian groups were condemning the movie and demanded that it be banned throughout the country. On May 19 I checked the Times for local showings. There were no listings for The DaVinci Code.

As it turns out, whatever arm of the Indian government that oversees movies had placed the release on hold while they sorted out the controversy. Although they finally agreed to allow the movie to show, the release was delayed for an entire week. Of course by that time, seats quickly sold out for every show time in every theater. I finally got to see the movie two weeks after it was originally supposed to be released, and I had to see it in the morning.

I sat back in my seat and waited to see how true the movie would be to the book. After the usual advertisements and previews played, they finally got around to playing the movie. But not before they played a makeshift disclaimer. In bold, italic font on a plain white background, the following message (as best as I can remember) was put on the screen:

The following film is fiction. Any resemblance to characters past or present is coincidental and is not intended to negate the history of said persons.

There were probably a few more phrases, but this was the general idea. The funny thing is that the disclaimer wasn’t even true. I think Dan Brown was trying to present, in a fictional yet believable way, an alternate history that has been discussed and researched for decades.

What I found so captivating about this whole situation was how differently we handle such situations in America. What freedom we have! We can create movies about anything we want. Mel Gibson can create a movie that shows the passion of Christ in such a moving and graphical way. Ron Howard can direct a film that challenges some of the fundamental beliefs about Christ. It is up to the people to decide how they deal with these ideas, and we’re free to deal with them as we please.

I realize that some Christians would have liked to completely silence the movie, the book, and any other related media that presented or discussed the ideas therein. They almost achieved that in India. But I say, bring it on. Let’s talk about these ideas. Let’s get them out in the open. Let’s hear both sides. Christians should be able to defend their beliefs and competently present the reason for their faith. They should not be afraid of such challenges. Historically, it has been opposition to the Church that instigated the spread of its faith.

I Just Need Some Medicine!

2006-05-25T08:43:00.000-05:00

I had been coughing at night and in the mornings for the last week. Then last night and this morning I was getting major sinus headaches. The Nyquil I had wasn't really designed to treat sinus stuff, so of course it didn't work. This morning it was so bad I decided I'd go ahead and try to make it out to get some sinus medicine.

Of course, there are none of the same medicine brands here that we have in the US, and I was a bit concerned about the logistics of getting to a drug store, but I seriously felt awful. I decided to go ahead and have the front desk call me a cab. "Hi, this is Matt in room 42. I need a cab to take me to Manipal Hospital and back. I just need to get some medicine."

"Yes sir, how can I help you?"

"Sir, I just need a cab to take me to get some medicine. Can you call me a cab?"

"OK, OK."

This was the new guy that after a month still can't remember what room I'm in, even though there are only like 20 some odd rooms. After about 2 minutes my phone rang.

"What do you need sir?" asked a different person at the front desk.

"Sir, I just need a cab, a taxicab?"

"When do you need it, sir?"

"Now."

"Sir, our vayhicle is not available now. I will have to call a city cab."

"Please do."

This is the abbreviated version of the conversation. I had to repeat myself at least three times. This isn't normally the case. Anyway, in a few minutes my cab arrived and I was on my way.

We had gone a few blocks when all of a sudden, this little Hyundai side-swiped us as the cab driver was trying to pass. Keep in mind the cab is more like a small van, so it actually pulled the bumper half off the car. Great. The hospital isn't even that far away.

In my opinion, it was the Hyundai driver's fault. He was a business man in his late 30s or early 40s, and he really started to give the cab driver fits. I kept thinking that if the car was older and driven by someone in a lower social class than the cab driver, the cab driver would not have been blamed. A bunch of men gathered around my driver and they all started yelling at each other in Kannada. I remained in the cab because I didn't want to get into it.

My driver ended up calling another cab to come get me. I'm sure this was only took about 10 minutes. He took me the rest of the way to Manipal Hospital. As I got out I told him I would only be a few minutes...20 minutes max. He said OK and said he would park in the back where there was a sign that said, "Parking for cars with drivers."

I had never been inside Manipal before. I went in and found a pharmacy, but I wasn't sure whether I could get over-the-counter medicine there. I went to the so-called information desk, and the lady told me that you had to have a prescription at the pharmacy. I asked her where I could get over-the-counter medicine. She looked at me in that sad puppy look and said, "Sir, sorry we don't have that here."

"Ma'am, you're telling me that this is a hospital and you don't have a place that sells aspirin or cough syrup here?" She shook her head. I gave her a look that told her she didn't know what she was talking about. I walked back over to the pharmacy and looked for any sign that maybe they sold OTC medicine.

I'm not sure why I didn't just go up and ask. There was no line. I then went to the registration counter where you actually check into the hospital and asked where I could get OTC medicine. He said the pharmacy could help me. "You don't need a presription?" I asked.

"No, sir."

I went to the pharmacy, got some sinus medicine (20 rupees - $0.44) and walked out to find the cab. I turned the corner to head towards the direction where the "Cars with Drivers" sign was. As it turned out, there were no cars parked on the side of the hospital, they were all at the back. I headed back there, but then saw another sign that said "Doctor and staff parking." Wonderful. I then walked up the other side of the hospital and found no cab. There were also no cabs in the parking area in front of the hospital. All of these parking areas are very small.

Finally I asked one of the security guys where cabs normally parked. "Sir?"

"Taxi. Where do taxis park?"

"Taxi? What is your taxi number sir?"

"I have no idea." I decided to just walk toward the exit to see if he was headed out or something. At this point my patience has worn completely thin. Not seeing my driver, I decided to just get a rickshaw home.

I never paid the cabs any money because you only pay at the end of the trip. I told the people at the front desk of my apartment what had happened just in case the drivers called back wondering where I had gone. I never heard from them.

I ended up calling in sick because my head hurt so bad whenever I moved it from an upright position. I have our internal messaging program installed on my computer, so I figured I would just use that to tell someone I wasn't coming in. Guy is on leave in London.

Of course, the Internet was down and had been since last night. Around noon they finally got it working and I sent a message to someone. I also had time to read my mail from yesterday. After that, the Internet went down again. At least I had time to do what I needed to do.

This is all part of the frustration of living here. Some of the other assignees and I were talking recently about how something as simple as running to the store for eggs is not a quick errand like it is in the US. There are so many places where the process can break down that it could end up taking all morning and by that time it is time for lunch.

Had I been in the US, I would have run to the Schnucks grocery down the road (probably the night before), taken about 5 minutes to run in and get the medicine and been back home in about 15 minutes. It just isn't that simple here, and of course, all these complexities don't help a sick person feel better.

I've rambled on long enough, but I really think the locals don't know that life just isn't this way in the Western world. They are completely satisfied that a simple errand can take all morning. I think that mentality sometimes flows over into their attitude towards work. The business of that woman telling me that the hospital didn't sell cough syrup or aspirin is a prime example of some things that happen at work with various groups saying, "no we don't handle that" without actually checking with someone first.

Unfortunately, I think changing this mindset is incredibly difficult and businesses that want to locate here are going to have to learn to work within the cultural framework and accept the associated consequences to a very large degree.

Monsoon!

2006-05-17T07:30:00.000-05:00

The Monsoon season has begun in Bangalore. I’m not sure of the exact date that meteorologists say is the official start, but I’m telling you, by virtue of actual weather patterns for the last week, Monsoon season is here.

For 6 out of the last 7 days, between 4:00 – 6:00 PM, Bangalore has clouded over (regardless of how sunny and warm it had been for the entire day) and rained. It starts with a pretty intense downpour and slowly drizzles off after a couple hours or so. That is monsoon season. I’m guessing that as the season progresses, the rains will become more intense, last longer, and start sooner in the day.

I haven’t been carrying an umbrella because you get wet regardless. The drainage system in many parts of the city isn’t all that great (that was the cause of the flooding last fall) and the water bounces off the ground anyway. I haven’t been walking home as much.

I actually like the rain because it really cools the place off. Plus, rain is really relaxing for me anyway.

There are, however, no tornados. Why is that? Tornados require a large mass of cold air to combine with a large mass of warm air. There are no masses of cold air in Bangalore. So all we get is rain, thunder, and lightning.

As I write, it is about 6:00 PM, and I can see the clouds rolling in and the wind starting to pick up. Time to settle in for today’s rain!

Phase III - The Last (Long) Stretch

2006-05-07T08:42:00.000-05:00

I must admit that after being back in the States for two weeks I had started going through a phase. I can only describe this phase as complete disgust and frustration with living in India – not just one part, but the whole thing. The honeymoon is over.

It is true that people clean my apartment and do my laundry here in India. However, when I was home in the States I felt like I was living like an absolute king. One of the first things I enjoyed was taking in deep breaths of clean, cool air. It has been so warm in Bangalore lately, even in the evenings. Furthermore, the smell when you walk down the streets was really starting to bother me. I can only imagine that it is a combination of animal and human excrement flowing through the rivers. That, and the mass quantities of fumes coming from the rickshaws and the buses.

I also enjoyed driving a car on the open road. I didn’t have to hail a rickshaw and argue over the fare. I got in the car, drove where I wanted, and didn’t have to worry (at least not too much) about crazy drivers and insane traffic. I also didn’t have to worry about cows in the street. Granted I had to pay a ridiculous price for gasoline, but it is a small price to pay for some freedom and order.

There were so many other things I enjoyed about being home: the endless choices of good places to eat, my usual selection of items at Target and Wal-Mart, and, of course, friends and family. It was so good to be home.

That’s why the thought of being back here for several more months seemed amazingly difficult. I’ve completed 7 out of 12 months, but looking forward to the remaining 5 seemed so much longer than the previous 7. I was feeling angry about being here, and I felt trapped in a world that I really didn’t like.

After getting back in the swing of things, however, my outlook is a lot better. The last couple weeks it has been back to the Leela, back to 100 Foot Boutique, back to Barista Coffee, back to rickshaws, and back to my serviced apartment. Although I can’t see myself ever making this a permanent home, it has become my life (such as it is) for this year.

I’ve begun to remember why I chose to come here in the first place. I came for the challenge, to see a new part of the world, to get exposure to a different side of our business, to learn about myself, and to prove to myself that I have what it takes to overcome obstacles and achieve success. It occurred to me that I need to begin listing all of the things I’ve learned since being here – about myself, about business, about life, about God, and about other people. Some of those things might show up in a future post.

To my readers who have missed reading new articles for the last month while I was away and getting back to life in Bangalore, I hope you’ll continue to read and enjoy my postings over the next few months. Enjoy.

(Note: Many of the emotions I’ve been going through are actually the various stages of culture shock or acclimatization. You can read more about culture shock at the following link from the University of Southern California. Click here.)

Odds and Ends

2006-03-31T12:45:00.000-06:00

I know some of you have been wanting to see more articles more often. However, I'm very picky about what I put on here. I refuse to post frivolous nonsense and waste your time and mine. The fact is that when I’m working I don’t have a lot of time to explore and do things outside the normal routine, and I’ve exhausted much of the material available from the normal routine. There are, however, a few things I’d like to share with you that have been going on over the last few weeks or that I haven't shared yet.

Monkey Business

A few weekends ago I went to a place in town called Cubbon Park. Touted as a park similar to Central Park or Hyde Park (or Forest Park for you St. Louisans), it was supposed to have a lot of trees and flowers and be kind of an oasis away from the craziness of the city. While it was somewhat of an oasis, I can assure you it wasn’t a whole lot like the parks mentioned earlier.

There were some nice gardens and several trees and a small lake, but much of the grass was rather brown or nonexistent, and there were several trees that I’m sure were just plain dead. It was indeed quiet, as it was set back quite a ways from the main road. It was nice to get some peace and quiet, and I got lots of photos of the beautiful flowe, many quite different from what we have at home.

I’ve taken a few hundred photos since I’ve been here, and I definitely have my favorites. My trip to Cubbon Park provided me with one of my favorites. The park had the only playground I’ve ever seen in Bangalore, on which there was a young boy, probably about 12 or so, who had a monkey on a leash. Of course, he was the entertainer for the younger kids around him, who seemed enamored by this wonderful pet. I absolutely had to have a photo. As I approached, one of the younger boys called out “camera!” and I got a great smile from the boy with the pet monkey.

They also had an aquarium at Cubbon Park. For 5 rupees I got to walk around two floors of the kind of fish tanks some people keep in their houses. It wasn’t that exciting. No sharks or dolphins like you see at Shedd Aquarium in Chicago.

Pest Control

It has been getting progressively hotter here in Bangalore, averaging the low 90s for the last few weeks, and getting hotter over the next few. With the heat has come an overabundant supply of mosquitoes. We get them in the summer in St. Louis, but they are noticeably thicker here, and it is all very unpleasant. I haven’t had too many in my apartment, probably because I have a couple things to plug in the wall that are supposed to kill them off. They are even bad at work. There is almost always one of them swarming around making a nuisance out of himself. My manager has a tennis-racket-type object with a button that sends electricity through the wires. He has it sitting on his desk, ready at a moment’s notice for when one of the pesky things comes along. As we were working on something the other night, we had the chance to use it and we enjoyed watching one of them fry. Fortunately, I haven’t gotten more than a couple bites.

I guess my only concern about all this would be malaria. I have a bunch of malaria tablets, but you’re supposed to take them every day. What am I supposed to do? Take one every day for an entire year? I don’t think so. I stopped taking them about a month after I got here. If I start getting really sick, I’ll either start taking them again or see a doctor.

Meals and Wheels

One thing that I’ve finally gotten used to here is the cost of living. It sounds a bit bizarre, I know, but it took me a little bit to figure things out. In the first place, I noticed that some things were unbelievably inexpensive. Rickshaw rides were one of those things. Yes, you have to argue with them about the price, but to go 5 kilometers costs about 30 rupees; less than a dollar. That’s pretty cheap considering what taxis cost in the US.

Then I realized that to get good, Western food here, you have to pay a lot of money. It is hard for me to get a good meal for less than $12, and most of the time it costs closer to $20. The company pays me extra to cover such costs, but I found it so bizarre. Then it occurred to me that, in order to get a good meal, I had to go to nice hotels and really nice restaurants. When I realized that I was getting a great meal at a five star hotel for less than $20, it began to make sense.

But then I went to the mall and got confused again. There’s a Tommy Hilfiger store, but everything seemed way more expensive. The same was true of things like iPods and other electronic stuff. Even the clothes at the Arrow store were more expensive. It is almost twice as much for shirts and pants as it would be back in the States.

I soon began to figure out that things that are made or produced here in India are inexpensive, and things that are imported are much more expensive than back home. I’m quite certain this is because of high import taxes set by the Indian government.

What really made me crazy was that when I was home over Christmas I thought I would go to Gap to get some nice shirts. I happened to glance at the tag, and what should it say but “Made in India”! Why did I have to go all the way back to America to buy shirts made in India? I was told that it was because things that are export quality are too expensive to be sold here. Oh the irony.

Come Again?

Sometime I would like to do an entire posting on the Indians’ use of the English language. There were already a number of funny phrases I had noticed when one day I was speaking to Syed about why none of his staff had attended a particular meeting. He explained that the shift was already very busy, not to mention the fact that four people were “on off”. Yes, that’s the phrase he used. Syed and I are close enough that I kind of made a little joke about it. We've had several laughs over it since then.

Of course they all have accents, but when we say their names, we use an American accent. My favorite example is the guy whose name is Bharath. I pronounce his name “Ber OTT”. Guy, from England, pronounces it “BAR ott”. In reality, it is pronounced “Baddat”, with a hint of an “h” sound in the first syllable. I’ve learned to pronounce it correctly, and I often am able to get a good laugh from the locals when I use the correct pronunciation.

Halfway There

Most of you probably know already that I will be back in St. Louis in about a week. I’ll be in town for a couple weeks to visit family and friends and, most importantly, to be a groomsman in my brother’s wedding. Thus marks the end of my first six months in Bangalore. It is hard to believe that I have already reached this milestone. I told myself I could do anything for a year. How quickly that time goes by!

I’ll have a chance to see many of you out-of-town family members when I’m in town, as some of you will also be in St. Louis for Mike’s wedding. I’m looking forward to this wonderful celebration of love and commitment and to seeing Mike come home from Marine Corps boot camp. We’re all very proud of him.

This will likely be my last post for quite awhile. Check back at the end of April, when I will return to Bangalore from my two weeks in the States.

Till then,
Matt

Questions from the Kids

2006-03-16T00:28:00.000-06:00

Recently I shared some photos of India with my friend, Andrew, who teaches middle school. He was teaching a unit on India, and wanted to share some first hand insights. Along with the photos, I sent explanations and descriptions. The students came back with several questions, which I enjoyed reading and answering.

It is interesting how young minds can ask the simplest, and yet some of the most profound questions. Some of them are answered on the site already. Others are not. I include the questions and answers here. I did have to ask some of my colleagues for answers on these. Thanks to the students for helping me learn, and from saving me from a small bout of writer’s block.

Jeremy asks, "Do they serve hamburgers in India?"

Yes, Jeremy, they do have hamburgers but you have to go to some of the more upscale restaurants to get them. There is a McDonald's here, but they do not serve hamburgers! They only serve chicken.

Sara asks, "Do they have normal cars?"

Sara, there are only a few of the same kinds of cars in India that you can find in the United States. They have Toyotas and Hondas here, and even some Fords and Chevys. BUT, the Fords and Chevys are different models than what you would see in the US. In addition, the driver sits on the right side of the car, not the left, and they traffic drives on the left side of the road, not the right!

Danielle asks, "What kinds of churches are in Bangalore?"

Danielle, most of the people in Bangalore are Hindu. The Hindu churches are called temples, and there are several throughout the city. A smaller number of people are Muslims and Christians, and they both have places of worship in Bangalore. As far as Christian churches, there are Catholic, Methodist, Baptist, Pentecostal, and non-denominational churches here.

Mim asks, "Do they have good restaurants?"

Mim, there are several good restaurants in Bangalore. Most of them are located in the nice hotels. One of my favorite restaurants is called 100 Foot Boutique, and it is right next door to my apartment on 100 Foot Road (hence the name). They have an outdoor patio on the second floor and they serve Italian food. They waiters there know me very well and know that my drink of choice is a Diet Coke with a glass FULL of ice. Unless you ask for ice here, they may not give any to you. I've also had food from KFC and Pizza Hut.

Abby asks, "What are the living conditions of the people?"

Abby, the living conditions vary widely depending on what kind of job they have and how much money they make. Some people have very nice homes and because the costs of labor are low, they have servants to help them clean and do laundry. These people likely don't make that much more than many Americans. Other people are very poor. There was a woman who lived in an old bus stand just outside the Methodist church. She had very dirty clothes and cooked over an open fire. One day I saw her cleaning what looked like a white t shirt with a jar of dirty water.

Jonathan asks, "What does Bangalore mean? I read in a book that it means baked beans, is that true?"

The name does indeed mean baked beans, and it has to do with a story of how the city came about hundreds of years ago. In November of this year, the name of the city will officially change to Bengaluru. Bangalore is a name given to the city by the British who colonized India a few decades ago. The British gave many major cities names that were easy for them to pronounce. Since India won independence, they have changed the names of several of their cities to more Indian names. Bombay is now Mumbai. Calcutta is now Kolkata. Madras is now Chennai.

After I answered these questions, they came back with more questions, as children are want to do. Here are those questions as well.

Abby asks, "How many people live in India? Are there different races in India?"

Abby, there are about 1 billion people in India. That's about as many as are in China and 3-4 times the number in the United States. There are a few people here from other countries, however most of them are not citizens of India. The history of India is somewhat complex in terms of the people who make up India. In general, there were historically two groups of people that made up the Indian population: the Aryans and the Dravidians. The Aryans had much lighter skin and lived in the North. The Dravidians have darker skin and lived in the South. I've noticed that this is still somewhat true today. Indians from Bangalore (in the southern part of the country) tend to have darker skin. Indians from Delhi (in the north) have much lighter skin.

Jeremy asks, "What are the different languages in India?"

Jeremy, there are over 20 different languages in India! Some of them are Hindi, Kannada, Tamil, Malayalam, Bengali, Punjabi, Marathi, Gugrathi, and many, many more! This is because India is made up of several different states that at one time were not part of the same country. Each state had its own language, culture, and food. I live in Bangalore, which is in the state of Karnataka. The local language is Kannada. On TV, there are channels in most of the different languages. Thankfully, there are a few in English as well!

Sara asks, "Are there any farmers since they let cows on the street? How much farming is done in the area that surrounds Bangalore?"

Sara, there are indeed farmers in India, but the farms are quite different from the farms in Illinois. Most rural people are farmers. Many grow rice in fields like I showed you in one of the photos. Some of the farmers in Karnataka grow sugar cane.

Danielle asks, "What is your favorite part about India?"

Danielle, my favorite part about India is the people. I find their customs, cultural differences, use of the English language, music, films, and activities absolutely fascinating and sometimes entertaining and funny! People are what make a place interesting, and that's certainly true here.

Jonathon asks, "I thought that India was freed 50 years ago, is this correct?"

Jonathon, India came out from under British rule in 1947. You're exactly right.

Sarah (Girlfriend of Andrew) asks, "Have you found an Indian Bride?"

Sarah, there are many Indian brides here. None, however, are mine. You should see the wedding invitations! They are large and colorful and quite formal. Arranged marriages are still quite common here. The parents choose spouses for their children based on caste, social standing, education, nature of the family, and hopefully whether or not the person would make a good mate for their children. This is often decided after the children reach adulthood. There is a formal engagement ceremony and, of course, an even larger wedding. It is very much a celebration of two families coming together.

Mim asks, "Can I come and try all the foods?" (Andrew says: I think she is serious.)

Mim, I suppose if you want to come to India, you're more than welcome to come! You'll first have to get a US passport. Then you'll need to apply to the Indian Consulate in Chicago for a Visa. This process can be quite tedious. Then, of course, there are several shots you'll have to get for things like Hepatitis, Typhoid, Tetanus, and Polio. You'll also have to schedule flights, which take about 24 hours to get here from the US. From Champaign you would connect through Chicago, and then to London or Frankfurt to Bangalore. That's quite a lot to do just to taste the different kinds of food, though. Maybe you could find an Indian restaurant somewhere in Champaign.

Mr. Durst (Andrew) asks, "When are you coming home again?"

Mr. Durst, I am coming home in April! I'll be in the States for about 16 days. My brother, Mike, is graduating from Marine Corps boot camp and coming home for 10 days during which time he will get married. He's marrying a very sweet and beautiful girl named Shelly. I absolutely have to be home for this important family event.

The Sun, the Sand, and the Sea

2006-03-02T00:38:00.000-06:00

It was back to Goa this past weekend, when I took some extra days off to enjoy the sun, the sand, and the sea. I again stayed in a beach hut, enjoyed meals of fresh fish and chips, and took in the salty smell of the ocean.

I knew last week would be a bit stressful at work, so I arranged to take Monday and Tuesday off so I could go for an extended weekend in what can only be described as paradise. I purposefully left the camera at home. Sometimes the pressure of getting good photos is too much when you’re trying to just relax. That forced me to take mental photos in order to be able to write down as much of it as I could remember.

Goa has many beaches, but I returned to Palolem, where I had stayed last time. The beach is in a half-circle shape with a small island at each end, providing a kind of picture frame for the view of the Arabian Sea. The beach is lined with hand-made co-co huts and beach-side restaurants. The only boats are the ones run by the locals that take travelers out to see the dolphins as well as the occasional kayak. That makes the water very peaceful, if not lazy. As each wave comes in, it moves ever-so-slowly, gradually builds up strength, and then gently tumbles onto the sand, making the classic ocean sound you can hear when you put your ear to a sea shell. The rhythm of the waves is quite soothing, and wonderful to hear when falling asleep and waking up in your hut.

I enjoyed walking the 1.5 kilometers of the beach, wading through the warm water and feeling the squishy sand under my toes. Some parts of the beach have a million tiny shells embedded in the sand, and it can feel a bit like walking on sharp rocks. The strong breeze coming in from the ocean provided just enough relief from the warm sun to make the walk quite pleasant.

On this trip, the people seemed to spark my interest more so than on the last one. There were, of course, a number of couples visiting the beach. While most of the visitors are Western, there was one older Indian couple that I saw a couple days in a row. They would wade out into the ocean and let the waves collapse around them. He wore gray shorts, but she wore a sari. You could tell that they were enjoying their surroundings, but more than that, they were enjoying each other, and were completely in love.

Of course, there are the locals who stroll the beach with all kinds of things to sell: pineapples, papayas, coconuts, jewelry, handmade drums, and colorful sarongs. I figured out that many of them actually have shops, but they try to get a little more business by going directly to the customers who are walking the beach, playing in the ocean or sunning themselves. Sometimes they can be a little annoying, but if you ignore them or wave them on, they leave you alone. If you don’t want to buy anything, the last thing you want to do is engage them in conversation. That will give them an excuse to talk to you until you either buy something or have to dismiss them rudely.

As I had meals on the beach facing the setting sun, I took mental pictures of the silhouettes of the people moving along the ocean front. To me, the most striking image is the figure of an Indian woman in her traditional sari, carrying a basket on her hip or on her head. The backdrop of the ocean sunset turns the woman into a dark shadow moving gracefully along.

Another common scene is that of the local young men who’ve come to the ocean to swim. They don’t really have proper swimming trunks, so many of them splash around in their underwear, shouting exuberantly and wrestling with the waves and with each other.

Frisbee and cricket are also common on the beach. One afternoon, as I was going for a walk, the cricket ball had just been hit and whizzed past me. Thankfully I saw it coming and was able to stop short of getting hit.

When the tide goes down, a very shallow section of sand and rocks is exposed on the north part of the beach. When I walked up there one day, I suddenly found myself in the midst of a sand bar where hundreds of tiny crabs were scampering about. I noticed that when my foot hit the sand they all moved for a second and then stopped. With each step they moved, and as I approached a particular group, they all scrambled to get back in their holes.

I did buy a couple of postcards to send to Grandma, who doesn’t have e-mail, and my brother Mike, who is in Marine Corps boot camp. I also bought a large cloth for sitting on the beach. It must be 8 feet long on each side, and is bright orange with dark orange elephants on it – very Indian. In the late afternoon I tied it up to my beach hut to provide a bit of shade from the sun as I rested on my hammock.

It was somewhat difficult to leave Palolem and return to reality, but I had achieved the kind of rest I needed after a busy month, and I felt prepared for the next six weeks leading up to April, when I’ll spend a couple weeks back at home in the US. Because there are other travels I want to do in India, I’m not sure I’ll find myself back in Goa.

Mahamastakabhisheka

2006-02-24T12:11:00.000-06:00

If getting up at 6:00 AM on a Saturday morning after about an hour’s sleep, driving three hours, and walking up the side of a mountain with no shoes on in order to see a giant statue of a naked man sounds like fun to you, you would have really enjoyed what I did this past weekend.

Eight of us, all Westerners, hired a large vehicle to take us to a village about 3 hours outside of Bangalore where the Jain festival of Mahamastakabhisheka was taking place. Yes, that’s the actual name of the festival. Now when I think of a festival, I think of all kinds of food and music and dancing and all kinds of cultural things going on. This festival contained very little of these things.

In addition to the normal festive things missing, we quickly noticed that this festival suffered from a severe lack of restrooms. When we arrived, we decided that we should find a restroom before climbing up the mountain. We asked around, and were pointed in a general direction, but never found a proper restroom. We walked until we came to a rice field. The men headed one direction and the ladies another. We all soon returned, much relieved.

We also were hoping for some kind of snack before heading up. There weren’t a whole lot of food stalls. In fact, there weren’t any. There were actually a couple stands where some young men were selling coconuts. I’m not a big fan of coconuts, so I had a small piece of someone else’s.

Once we had taken care of our physical needs, we were ready to proceed to the main event of the festival, which is to see this giant statue of a naked man. (We would soon find out that he wasn’t the only naked man around.) Apparently he is some kind of hero of this religion. He is naked because he has freed himself of all the worries and cares of earthly life. This is the ultimate sign of salvation. The giant statue, however, is situated inside of a very tall hill (I call it a mountain) which we had to climb.

We approached the entry to the festival and, I’m assuming because we were Westerners, we were allowed in ahead of everyone else. As we approached the hill, we were asked to take off our shoes. The lady that sent the e-mail describing the trip had said to wear comfortable shoes as we would have to climb all these stairs. Now it seemed that advice was not so valuable. We wondered why we had to remove our shoes.

“Sir, this is a holy place,” we were told by a guard.

We took off our shoes.

Thus began our climb up the mountain. The stairs were actually carved right into the rock so we were essentially walking barefoot up this rock mountain. Thankfully, there weren’t very many sharp edges, so we didn’t hurt our feet too bad. Every so often we stopped to rest. It must have taken us at least 20 minutes to get up the mountain.

One of the main things I noticed was the wonderful view of the plains and the small villages surrounding us. You literally could see for miles. It was fantastic to stop and take in the view as well as some deep breaths.

There were many people climbing up the mountain to get to the statue. There were men and women of all ages and physical abilities making efforts to get to the top. For a price, some of the less-able ladies were carried up the mountain on a chair attached to poles carried by four men. I couldn’t help but wonder that these folks were so very dedicated to their religion that they would climb up this mountain so urgently. I was there for the cultural experience. They were there out of a sense of duty or service. Throughout the day I made a number of mental notes about the differences between this religion and Christianity. I won’t include them all here for conservation of time and space.

After several breaks and several hundred stairs we finally made it to the top, and there he was. This naked man must have been 4 or 5 stories tall. The people were crowding themselves in and trying to get settled as the event was gearing up. Over a loudspeaker someone was constantly speaking in Kannada, the local language. I don’t understand one word of it. There were platforms built all around the statue and so we thought we’d try to find a place there. We had to do a bit of pushing and shoving.

When we got to what we thought was a good position, we were pushed and jostled out of it by several of the faithful as well as some of the security guards, both of which were plentiful. When we moved to our next position, we were shoved and guided away from there as well. After trying a couple more spots we finally gave up and decided to head to the lower level. I pushed a few people out of my way to get there.

When we got to the lower level, the security guards actually led us to the ground floor where the feet of the statue were located. We got to get quite close which enabled some great photo opportunities, but we had just a few seconds. Located in this area was a group of holy men all seated together. We knew they were holy because they had not only taken off their shoes, but all of their other garments were missing as well. They, too, had freed themselves of all the cares of this world. I think in doing so they may have cast their cares on some of those around them!

In any event, we decided that we had seen what we wanted to see (and more) and were ready to head back down. The trip down was actually harder on my feet than the trip up, but after several minutes we were all safely back down.

I certainly was expecting a little bit more in terms of a festival, but the fact that there wasn’t a lot of what I expected made it all the more interesting. I include some photos from this event. I apologize if the nude statue offends you.

Phase II - "New" Experiences

2006-02-15T12:57:00.000-06:00

Some of you have missed my weekly post. I confess my negligence in providing a life-enriching posting for you. I’ve realized that I am in a different stage of my assignment in India.

Phase I (Start of assignment till my Christmas break) was very much about finding my way both culturally and with respect to my career. I spent much of that time noticing the cultural differences, getting used to the day-to-day aspects of living here, and getting used to a new job, a new manager, new coworkers, and a different side of the business.

Phase II (New Year through my brother’s wedding in April), I’m discovering, is much more about making some significant accomplishments. I’ve been working very hard on the job trying to achieve some real deliverables in the area of service for our site in Bangalore. I’ve had to be very focused on these activities in order to see the kind of success that management is expecting of me.

In the same way that I have had to live life on purpose in order to achieve career goals, I’m discovering that I’ll need to live life on purpose in order to experience some new things outside of work. I’m used to the day to day life, and now it is time to go out and try some new experiences. These new experiences could be rather significant or they could be rather ordinary.

One ordinary experience I had over the weekend was going to a movie theater. I had not gone to a theater since I first came to Bangalore. I decided to see Fun with Dick and Jane. The movie was really hilarious, as is the case with most Jim Carrey movies. The theater experience was very much like theaters in the US with, as you might guess, a couple exceptions.

I bought my ticket and was ready to go in the theater. The guards were not letting people into the lobby of the theater until 20 minutes before the start of the movie. In the US, we can get in the lobby whenever we want. Once they finally let us in, I got some popcorn and a Coke. It didn’t cost $6. It was only about $1.50. (The movie was less than $5.) I headed to theater 3, where the movie would soon start. I walked through the door but was quickly advised by an usher that I needed to wait until the current movie was over. Here it was 15 minutes until start time, and they were still playing the previous movie!

Finally, about the time the movie was supposed to start, they let us all in. Oddly enough, no one had come out the doors. I found out later this was because the exit was at the front of the theater, not the back where patrons would enter for the next movie. I found my seat (which was assigned, not first come-first serve) and the movie soon started. The story line was just getting interesting and funny when all of a sudden, the movie stopped and the lights went up. It was time for intermission.

This movie couldn’t have been more than 90 minutes long, so I’m not sure why an intermission was necessary. But, apparently they do an intermission during all movies. The thing of it is, they didn’t even stop it at a logical point in the story. It was right in the middle of the scene! Not to worry, the movie resumed in about 10 minutes. I never got out of my seat.

At the end, I left via the front of the theater on a different floor of the mall where the theater was located. The movie was great and the experience was new. In the coming weeks, I hope to do some more “new” things. You can see that “new” things can happen when attempting to do the ordinary here in Bangalore.

Every Man for Himself

2006-02-06T00:41:00.000-06:00

Orange cones, yellow caution tape, and red emergency lights are all but absent in the city of Bangalore. That’s because India has yet to be plagued by the idea that citizens need protection from every pebble or that they need cones around every crack in the concrete.

Imagine driving along and coming upon a construction site in the US. The workers are wearing steel-toed boots and reflective vests. One of them is standing just to the side of the lane in a hard hat holding out a sign that says “SLOW”. When you come upon the construction site, you’re not surprised it is there because there was no way you could have missed the flashing orange signs and speed limit reductions. The big holes in the ground are securely guarded by concrete barricades and orange and white barrels. There is practically no way you could have hurt yourself or anyone around the construction site.

A construction site in Bangalore is somewhat different. Towards the end of 100 Foot Road, they are constructing a flyover (British word for overpass) to make the intersection with Airport Road a little more manageable. They’ve been working on this since I got here. There is still a little road that serves as a kind of exit ramp from 100 Foot Road to Airport Road, but it is barricaded. That doesn’t mean, however, that pedestrians, bicycles, and motorcycles can’t weave around the barricade and head to Airport Road. I should know; I’ve done it many times. I’ve gone on that exit when there are cranes and long metal poles and welders and all kinds of other construction paraphernalia. Interestingly enough, I was never hurt by any of it, nor did I cause anyone to be hurt.

Workers on these sites wear little or no protective gear. Most of them perform the work in their bare feet. They have no covering over their heads (except a ball cap), and they certainly aren’t wearing orange vests.

I believe I’ve mentioned in past postings the craziness of the traffic as it weaves in and out and drivers look for the smallest opening they can use to get through. Lanes are more of a general guideline here. Right of way belongs to the biggest vehicle or the one that is small enough to zip around the side of the traffic on the sidewalk or in the opposite lane where there is oncoming traffic.

The excitement of the traffic makes crossing the street quite an adventure. If you’ve ever played the video game Frogger, you have a pretty good idea of the experience. The only difference is that you don’t have three chances. And if you think you’ll just wait until the traffic slows down, you may as well just stay on the side of the street you’re on. What you have to do is look for small holes and slow-moving vehicles. Sometimes you have to cross the traffic in three or four parts.

Here’s the thought process when crossing Airport Road. Wait for traffic to thin out and for a slower auto rickshaw to come. Wait for the bus to pass, step out in front of the auto rickshaw. Wait a few seconds for the motorcycle to pass, and just before the rickshaw hits you step forward and out of the way (as the driver beeps at you) and rush up onto the median before the Maruti Suzuki hits you. Whew…halfway now. Now there is a rush of traffic in front of and behind you. Once you dodge the bicycles, motorcycles, and the huge bus taking a group of people to the technical park, you’re now on the other side of the street.

Among the other shocking aspects of the traffic, I was rather surprised to learn that motorcycles double as minivans. Here’s how it works. A man will drive the motorcycle down the road. On the seat behind him is his wife, dressed in a sari, riding side saddle. She is holding on to their child, no wait, two children. None of them are wearing helmets. No car seats, no seat belts, no rules saying the children have to sit in the back seat.

Sometimes I wonder whether it would be too much trouble to just put up a cone or a sign, especially when there are holes in the sidewalk. I’ve seen holes as deep as three feet or more and as wide as two feet in the sidewalk. A small child would have no trouble falling right in. I guess Bangalorian philosophy tells you that you should know better than to let your child run around in the streets by herself.

The craziest thing happened this week when I walked to the ATM. It is located near where the flyover is being built, and they had begun some construction outside the small building that houses the ATM. As I was approaching, I noticed a young woman leaving from the ATM building and taking a huge step down into a hole! What in the world? In the process of construction, they had dug a four foot trench in front of the ATM building and the other buildings around it. There was a little ledge around the perimeter of the hole, and it was just wide enough to scoot along to get to the ATM and back onto the sidewalk. I needed to get money, so I took my chances on the ledge. I safely made it to the ATM and back to the sidewalk. No cones, no caution tape, and no one telling me I couldn’t get my money. If I fell down in the process of trying that stunt, I had no one to blame but myself. Forget frivolous law suits.

It is actually somewhat liberating to be able to come and go as you please without a sign or barricade telling you otherwise. It forces you to make decisions and fully accept the consequences without blaming others for your own silly mistakes. There is only one Bangalorian safety rule: Every man for himself. That’s what I call freedom.

The Least of These

2006-01-30T00:13:00.000-06:00

One of the inevitabilities in an emerging economy such as India is the coexistence of the exceptionally wealthy and the tragically poor. And one of the inevitabilities of poverty is consistent and persistent begging.

In one of my early posts on this site, I mentioned that the first time I walked out of my apartment to explore the neighborhood I was confronted by a small girl who wrapped her arms around my leg. That day I gently kept walking and she eventually let go of me. It wasn’t until some time later that I realized she was actually begging for money. Welcome to India.

Just outside the Indiranagar United Methodist Church down the road is a very old bus stop that now houses a very poor woman, the one I saw washing a cloth with dirty water some time ago. Since I must pass the bus stop to get to places like Food World or Fab Mall to buy food, I’ve been solicited by her many times.

I was riding around in a rickshaw with Vic and Adam when we saw some kids giving performances on the side of the road. One girl was doing flips. Another was showing off with a metal ring. As I discovered in a minute, this was all very strategic. They were doing these acrobatics near a busy intersection where traffic gets very congested, especially when there is a red light. When the traffic stopped moving, the kids would perform the tricks quite vigorously for several seconds, and then they would run up to the cars, rickshaws, and motorcycles and ask people for money. This miniature circus turned out to be one of a number of shows performed for money.

One of the most popular shows is for a woman in her late twenties or early thirties to carry around a baby (more like a toddler) in her arms. The child has a white bandage wrapped around his head, and the blood from his wound has seeped through the bandage. It would be quite a tragic scene if it weren’t for the fact that the woman stands on the same street corner doing this same routine all day every day.

A young boy, maybe 12 years old, approached me with a basket one day. He said a bunch of words to me, the only one of which I could understand was “snake.” I informed him I had no desire to see a snake. In spite of this, he removed the lid from the basket to reveal a cobra coiled up inside. “Get out of here with that thing!” I exclaimed. I wasn’t sure if he wanted money for showing me the snake or for getting it away from me. (When I told my manager and his wife – from England – about this later, they both said, “oh, you met snake boy.” Apparently he gets around town.)

Regardless of the method of trying to get money, the beggars are quite persistent – many of them quite bold. The children are perhaps the most bold. In addition to the girl grabbing my leg, I’ve had them run in front of me and stop right in my path holding their hands out. They will run after me down the street hollering things that I don’t understand. They stand outside the rickshaw tapping my leg or my foot and putting their fingers to their lips, indicating they want food. While some of the performances are quite entertaining, there are those who I know are truly in need.

Some of the most serious cases of poverty are those that are disabled. There is one man in particular who sits on the sidewalk not too far from the Leela Palace hotel. He has no legs and very deformed arms. This is a man who, in a society that doesn’t have laws like the Americans with Disabilities Act, is truly in poverty to the point that rising out of it is highly unlikely.

One of the issues I’ve wrestled with is how I should respond to this poverty. In America, I’m very much middle class. In India, I am quite wealthy. Does that mean I am responsible to help the poor here? So far, I have not given a single rupee as charity to anyone.

There are a number of reasons I have chosen not to give to the poor in Bangalore. For one thing, I find it hard to give to people who pretend that their children are injured in an effort to pull at your heartstrings so that you open up your wallet a little bit wider. That is very dishonest and causes me to wonder about the seriousness of their poverty. To me, a young woman who is creative enough to beg in such a manner should be able to find some simple work to do to help earn some money for food.

Another reason I have avoided giving to the poor is because, although I am well to do by Indian standards, I am still completely unable to lift someone out of his or her poverty. Regardless of whether I gave someone 10 rupees or 1,000 rupees, it would never be enough to help them move beyond their poverty. It may help them find food for that day or for several days, but am I to give to them again the following day, and the day after that, and the day after that?

I’m sure you’ve heard stories in America about people who made a profession out of begging, some of them taking home more money in a day than a middle-class, working person would. Although I doubt this happens that often in India, should I choose to give, I would want to make sure I was giving to a person who is truly in need.

Am I being harsh? Am I just making excuses? When I was home, I was explaining all of this to my mother. She wisely suggested that, should I choose to give charitably, I could give to a local organization that helps the poor. A good local organization would be able to identify those truly in need, know how best to help them, and know how to make the most use of any money I might give. I have decided that this will be my course of action, should I choose to help in this way.

For now, I’ll just have to be entertained by the actors, acrobats, and snake charmers on the streets of Bangalore.

A Little Too Ironic

2006-01-23T22:31:00.000-06:00

My brother, Mike, is in the midst of Marine Corps boot camp. Within a battalion, they have companies. Each company is designated with a letter, and that letter always has a name. So you have, Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, Delta, etc. My brother is in the "I" company. The name of the company? India.

Irritating Roommate

2006-01-22T11:01:00.000-06:00

It isn’t that I would have minded having a roommate, but this guy was just annoying.

Soon after I returned from my visit home for the holidays, I discovered that someone, or should I say some thing had moved in with me. I woke up one morning and looked up at the wall. Next to the light on the wall was small, brown lizard creature. Perhaps it was a gecko, I’m not quite sure, so I just called it a lizard. I laid in bed for a few minutes just looking at this lizard and wondering whether I should try to get rid of it. I figured it would be pretty messy if I tried to squish it, and I wasn’t sure if I could catch it or not. I figured that this small lizard would not be able to harm me in any way, and as long as he minded his own business, I didn’t mind having him as a roommate. Unfortunately, Lizard did not mind his own business.

One of the biggest problems was that he was constantly in my room. We have a two bedroom apartment, and I had really only been using the other bedroom for storing a few things. Lizard was such a small guy that I thought he could have managed in the other bedroom. But it seemed like I was constantly finding him in my room. I often found him in the morning when I was getting ready for work. He really liked to hide under my shoes. Whenever I would move my shoes, he would be there and then scamper away, as if I hadn’t seen him. I scolded him, but it really did no good.

Lizard kept hiding out in dark places, and whenever I would turn the light on he would freeze. Since he was not an iguana, he could not really blend in with the surroundings. I would just and stare at Lizard in disbelief. When I would approach him, he would move super fast out of the way. I was really frustrated that he was invading my privacy and that he wouldn’t just hang out in his own room.

On Friday of this week I was getting ready for work and it was time to put on my shoes. I moved them to the side to see if Lizard was hiding underneath. He was not. I went out to the kitchen to get a cloth to wipe the dust off my shoes. After dusting them off (shoes get really dusty when you walk the streets in Bangalore) I went to sit down and put on my shoes. As I turned the first shoe up to put it on, Lizard hopped out of the shoe, fell onto my arm and onto the floor. That was the last straw.

I decided to either capture or kill Lizard. I had had enough. I know it sounds mean, but the guy just would not leave me alone. I chased him around for a bit and found a small, empty trash can under my desk. Once I had the trash can, I was able to corner him. No little nooks or crannies for him to hide in. It was now me and the Lizard, and I was determined to trap him. He just stood under the desk looking at me for a minute and I slowly moved the trash can to him. I tried once to capture him, but didn’t get him.

Then again I tried to put the trash can right over him. He didn’t scamper away, so I was pretty sure I had caught him. I wanted to make sure he wasn’t just hiding behind the trash can, so I had to scoot the trash can out from under the desk, being careful not to let him escape. As it turned out, I had trapped only the rear half of Lizard’s body under the can. I decided to press the can down to at least cripple, if not kill, Lizard. Then I moved the trash can so Lizard was entirely under it. I then called the receptionist.

“Sir, I have captured a small lizard under the trash can. Could you send the maintenance people up here to remove it?”

“Yes sir. I will send the soldiers to help you.”

“Thanks.”

In a few moments one of the housekeeping guys was in my apartment and was scooting the trash can across the floor. It was a metal trash can and the floor is tile, so it made a lot of noise. The man picked up the trash can to check on the lizard. Lizard did not scamper away at all. His body was basically bent in half from where I had squished him. The man tore a couple pieces of newspaper from the Times of India and scooped up the lizard and took him out. He also took the trash can to rinse it out. When he came back, I gave him a small tip for his help.

I came home Friday evening and what should be creeping around in the hallway outside my apartment but another small, brown lizard. This may sound a bit prejudicial, but I figured if one brown lizard cannot keep to himself, then all of them have that problem. I kicked at this lizard in the opposite direction of my door to discourage him from even thinking of entering. I’ve not seen him since.

I felt somewhat bad about having to get rid of Lizard, and I was sorry that I had to resort to violence to get rid of him. But diplomacy just wasn’t working. Clearly he did not understand the boundaries that roommates are supposed to have. If only he had stayed in his own room…

What I Miss Most

2006-01-14T10:06:00.000-06:00

Since my last post I have traveled over 20,000 miles by plane, and let me tell you, they weren’t the easiest miles. That 20,000 miles was done in about 48 hours, over which I was stuffed in a small space, dehydrated, hassled by airline employees, and surrounded by toddlers, babies, and an annoying redneck. If only I were exaggerating.

I suffered all of this so I could spend a few precious hours with my family and friends in the best country in the whole wide world. (That’s the United States in case any of you had forgotten.) It was worth every mile traveled.

A friend of mine, Steve, e-mailed me recently and asked what I appreciated most about America now that I have been to India, visited home, and returned to India. I’ve got a more profound entry that I’m working on (at least in my head) that I’ll post later on down the road, perhaps closer to the end of my assignment. That will go into detail about some of the more high level things I’ve grown to love about America. In terms of this home leave trip, I’m going to stick to some of the simple pleasures I enjoyed.

The first time I got behind the wheel of a car since October 7th was on Christmas Eve when I drove my Mom and brother to Dallas to a big family gathering. I must admit I was a bit disoriented at first, but I quickly got back in the swing of things. It was nice to be in a place where the traffic is orderly and you’re not getting pollution blown in your face all the time. (Auto rickshaws put out more soot than an SUV.)

As with most moms’ refrigerators, my mom’s was full of good things like eggs, bacon, plenty of soda, and milk. These are things that are either not available in India or simply not the kind of quality we are used to in America. I tried not to make too much of a pig of myself. Oddly enough, I weighed less after Christmas than I did before.

I played the piano at Mom’s house, something I had not done since leaving the States. I was glad to know I hadn’t lost my touch. I also got to play for church on my last day in the States.

I of course made several trips to various Starbucks in Tyler, Houston (airport) and St. Louis.

I did plenty of shopping for toiletries, clothes, books, CDs, movies, and other things to take with me back to India. This turned out to be a problem when it came time to check in at the airport as my luggage was overweight. My friends ran over and bought another small piece of luggage so I could even out the weight and check two bags. I had to have my stuff! (That’s an American sentiment, by the way.)

I went in to work a couple days (no, that doesn’t count as vacation) which meant I got to hang out with my work pals. It was nice to get breakfast from the Aramark Café. Sandy said she had missed me and wondered where I had been. I explained that I was based in India for a year and hadn’t been fired or anything. She’s retiring in February.

But more than the luxuries that I’m sure I’ll take for granted again about this time next year, I enjoyed spending time with my family and friends. Christmas Eve with Mom’s side of the family, playing monopoly with my brothers, dinner with my old small group from church, and the conversations, laughs, and stories with everyone else, I can say that for me, this is what I appreciate most about America.

Hope that answers your question, Steve.

Home For Christmas

2005-12-19T00:12:00.000-06:00

I am so excited to be headed home for Christmas at the end of this week. I'll be visiting with friends and family and doing my best to enjoy the comforts and habits of home. I took last Friday off to do some Christmas shopping, and it is completely done. Now I am officially ready to head home. Here is my itinerary. All times are local:

Friday, December 23
Bangalore to Frankfurt 2:15 AM - 8:15AM
Frankfurt to Houston 9:45 AM - 2:05 PM
Houston to Tyler 3:35 PM - 4:40 PM
Total Travel Time: 26 Hours, 55 Minutes
Friday, December 30
Tyler to Houston - 10:10 AM - 11:15 AM
Houston to St. Louis - 12:55 PM - 2:55 PM
Total Travel Time: 4 Hours, 45 Minutes
Sunday, January 8 - Tuesday, January 10
St. Louis to Chicago - 2:10 PM - 3:35 PM
Chicago to Frankfurt - 6:30 PM - 9:45 AM
Frankfurt to Bangalore - 11:20 AM - 12:25 AM
Total Travel Time: 22 Hours, 45 Minutes

If you'd like to hang out, go out for dinner or lunch, see a movie, or just talk, and we haven't already made plans to do this, give me a call on my US cell (same number as before) after I get back to the States on December 23.

Until then, I wish everyone a Merry Christmas and the happiest and most rewarding of New Years.

Bangalorian Birthday

2005-12-15T12:17:00.000-06:00

My birthday was December 13. Contrary to what my brother Mark says, I am only 26, not 27. (He wished me a happy 27th birthday.) My first quandary about the whole thing was when I should actually celebrate. I was born at about 11:45 AM Central Time. That’s about 11:15 PM here in Bangalore. So, did that mean I would have to wait for almost the entire day before celebrating? If I did, then it was really mostly the 14th that I should celebrate. I decided that the best thing to do was to not take any chances and just celebrate for two days, the 13th and the 14th.

On the 13th I went across the street to this Salon and got a massage. The bed in my apartment is kind of hard, and I was “suffering” from some tense spots in my back. Since massages here are cheap, I thought I’d give it a try. It was very relaxing. This is the place where I also get my hair cut. It seems like a lot of places in Bangalore do both haircuts and other personal care services in the same location.

I then went to a mall here called Forum where there is a place called Cookie Man. Their tag line is “Australian Baked Cookies.” I don’t know what makes a cookie Australian as opposed to American or British, but they make pretty good cookies. I bought a bucket full of them to take with me to work to share with everyone. They all came over and shook my hand (apparently that’s what you do on someone’s birthday) and wished me many happy returns of the day.

Later I went with my friend and colleague, Adam (from the UK), to a place inside Leela Palace called Zen which serves Thai cuisine. It was really good. A little pricey, but as Adam said, “It was a proper birthday meal.”

When I got back to the office one of the team leaders, Syed, came over and said that we had a very important meeting and that he wanted me to join them. So, I walked into the meeting room, and found that they had bought a chocolate cake! I blew out the candle, they sang happy birthday, and gave me this crazy mask to put on. I thought it was very cool of them to do all of this and I told them how much I appreciated it. They said they wanted to make me feel at home.

I got cards or e-cards or birthday wishes from several folks at home, and I even had a package from Brian and Molly. They sent a DVD, a Starbucks gift card for when I first set foot on American soil, and 24 candles. That had to be the best part. I’m flattered that they thought I was only 24! Since they hadn’t mentioned this to me, and I hadn’t really mentioned my birthday to them, it meant a lot that they remembered!

So, my Bangalorian Birthday was good. So good, in fact, that I decided that I really didn’t need to celebrate on the 14th after all.

December

2005-12-11T07:46:00.000-06:00

Cold weather, houses adorned with colored lights, and Nat King Cole singing “Merry Christmas” in the mall have certainly not been part of my December. Generally December comes with a chill in the air requiring the use of a coat and gloves, continues with some holiday shopping and a scant reference to my birthday, and comes to a close with some presents, a visit home, and a party to ring in the New Year. As with most familiarities of home, much of this has been missing so far this December. Thankfully, I’ll get some of these things on my visit back to the States in less than two weeks.

As I’ve read about bone-chilling weather and heard about the 3 inches of snow on the ground in St. Louis, I’ve been wearing short sleeves to work and turning on the air conditioning when I get home. It generally has been in the high 70s to 80 degrees here during the day, and somewhat cooler (60s) at night. Today was a bit cooler as it was overcast and rainy. The only jacket I brought with me is a hooded sweatshirt, and I think I’ve only worn it once.

Conscious of the weather in America, however, I decided I will need a coat when I get there. As my first stop is Tyler, Texas, and all of my stuff is in storage in St. Louis, I ordered a coat online and had it delivered to my Mom’s house so that she can bring it to me when she picks me up from the airport.

Whereas most stores in America are playing Holiday music right now, I still hear Indian songs in Hindi, Kannada, and the other languages they speak here when I am out. There are a few lights and decorations here and there. Leela Palace Hotel has some beautifully decorated trees and even a gingerbread house made from real gingerbread. The first time I saw it I did a double take. The gingerbread house has various sweets and goodies for sale. I was checking out what they had when a little Indian elf popped her head up from behind the sweets. “You have a cute costume!” I exclaimed. I then proceeded outside where I had dinner with a coworker.

I finally started my Christmas shopping today. I plan to buy a lot of Indian things to share with everyone. I’ll have to finish my shopping by next weekend since the weekend after that I’ll be headed home. I’m trying to avoid the tacky ornament-type souvenirs that are available and find things that people will actually like, use, display, and appreciate.

As December continues, I’m comforted by the fact that the cold, the colors and the carols are all waiting for me back home.

Breakfast With a Rat

2005-12-04T04:53:00.000-06:00

Normally I am not up in time for breakfast because I work a late shift. But today, Sunday, I decided I'd try to get up earlier and enjoy a nice breakfast at the Leela. It was a cool, cloudy morning, which was fine with me. I found a rickshaw and made my way over to Leela Palace.

They had a breakfast buffet and a choice of main dishes. I ordered an omelet and went to the buffet to pick up some bread and fruit. I had been seated outside, which I usually like to do. For Christmas they have large potted poinsettias set around the edge of the eating area. I was happily enjoying my breakfast and having the waiter bring me another Diet Coke when I looked down at one of the poinsettia pots and noticed that right next to the pot was a small, gray animal.

I have seen little chipmunks and things and even a lizard around here, so I looked a little more closely to see what this thing was. I noticed the long, smooth tail and the round ears. This thing was no small mouse. It was about three times the size of a mouse. That's right. It was a RAT!

The rat just sat there for awhile. He did move a little bit, but he must have been sleeping because he hardly moved. The waiter came with the Diet Coke, and I said, "Sir...you have a rat." He looked over at it, but really did nothing about it. Soon, a young couple and another young lady friend of theirs came to the table next to mine, which was much closer to the rat.

The women sat down without even noticing the rat at first. They got up to get their breakfast from the buffet and then sat back down. It was then that the young lady friend noticed the rat. She pointed it out to Mrs. Young Couple. I was glad that neither of them screamed or caused a commotion. They just kind of looked at it and then went on with their breakfast. Mr. Young Couple came to the table and everyone carried on as if all was well.

Now, I must say that I'm not all that concerned about seeing a rat outside in India. Probably not all that uncommon. However, when it is in the place where you are eating, it does make you think twice. But, Leela Palace is a 5 star hotel, and the restaurant is good. I'll be eating there again. Maybe if I see the rat again I'll ask if I can buy him a drink.

Thankgiving in Goa

2005-11-29T03:23:00.000-06:00

I’m sure many of you spent Thanksgiving eating turkey and mashed potatoes and pumpkin pie. I spent most of my Thanksgiving Day traveling to Goa (a very small state on the West coast of India) for an awesome beach holiday.

My flight was supposed to leave about 2:00 PM but was delayed and didn’t really leave until about 3:00 PM. It was only a 90 minute flight, and everything went off without a hitch. Of course, the flight attendants gave instructions in both Hindi and English.

I had not booked any hotel reservations at all because I figured I could wing it. This was a fair assumption. There was a hotel booth at the airport, which helped me book a hotel at what I thought was a nearby beach. In fact, it was an hour drive by taxi. The beach was called Calangute and was in the north part of Goa, and I had read that it was really more of a party/tourist beach. That did not thrill me. I was told the hotel was a 5 minute walk from the beach. It was more like 15 minutes. By the time I got settled into the hotel and made it to the beach the sun was setting on the Arabian Sea. I stayed for about 30 minutes, took a couple pictures and headed back through the little town.

The town was rather busy with restaurants and bars and shops of all varieties. I wasn’t thrilled with this either, but I found a decent place to eat and had crab cakes, and chips (that’s French fries for we Americans) and rice and a cold coffee dessert. That was my Thanksgiving meal, and it was rather tasty.

I went back to the hotel where I discovered that the majority of the electricity in the room did not work. After getting them to fix it – twice – I settled in, watched TV, and tried to sleep, which wasn’t all that easy.

The next day I made it my priority to get out of that hotel and away from that beach and down to Palolem, which came on very high recommendation from Will, an international assignee to Reuters from England. I checked out of the hotel at 9:00 AM, got a cab and made it through rural Goa down to Palolem in 2 hours. The cab driver parked in what seemed like a rather remote village in the woods. He led me through the small village and after just a few yards, I could head the sound of the ocean. And then, we were there.

We were greeted by a man in his early twenties who had a group of beach huts he rented out. As it turned out, there were several such “families” of huts over the entire beach. I didn’t rent from the first man because he didn’t have anything available right away. I wanted to get rid of my stuff and enjoy the beach. I went to the next set of huts, which did have one available right away and I took it. The hut only cost me 300 rupees a night, which is about $6.75. It was very simple. Here is a photo.

Staying in the hut was almost like camping on the beach. This was not a luxury resort by any means. But the simplicity of it all enabled me to just enjoy the beautiful surroundings and focus on the ocean instead of my accommodations.

After getting settled in the hut, I found a restaurant on the beach and had some freshly caught red snapper for lunch. It took a rather long time to cook, but it was worth the wait. While waiting, I waded into the ocean and saw some crabs crawling around on the rocks. It was awesome.

After lunch I decided to walk along the entirety of the beach in the water. Palolem Beach is kind of a half moon shape with an island on either end framing the view of the ocean. As I walked I noticed that most of the people were Westerners, but there were some Indians, of course.

That evening I made my way back to a nearby town to an ATM, the nearest one available, since the hotel at Calangute could not accept credit cards as a result of a broken machine. When I got back, it was dark, and all of the restaurants on the beach had set up tables facing the beach, each one of them with a candle or two. I found a place to eat and had dinner. The waiter realized I had come alone and sat down and chatted for awhile. He was probably a bit younger than I, and he had many questions about where I was from, what I was doing in India, and so forth. After dinner, I went back to my hut and went to bed exhausted. It was 9:15 PM.

The bed was not all that comfortable, but it was thankfully covered by a mosquito net. I basically dozed until about 11:00 or so when I fell fast asleep. In the morning I woke up to nothing but the sound of the ocean, which was only a few yards from my hut. This was perfect. It was 6:15.

I spent most of the day on Saturday swimming in the ocean and sitting in the sun. But first, I went out on a boat with some of the locals who showed me some of the surrounding area. They also were able to point out some dolphins, which is one of the main reasons people go on the boat trips. I did see some, but they were not very close and I couldn’t get any good photos. I really enjoyed getting out on the ocean and breathing in the clean air and seeing the more beautiful parts of India. Saturday was just a very relaxing day. I had more fish for dinner, and just took it easy.

Sunday morning I decided to go out on the boats again. This time I did get some good pictures of the dolphins. I had breakfast, bought some souvenirs, went for one last swim, and it was time to go. One of the young guys helped me get packed up, and I ended up giving him a few things. One was my electric toothbrush which had ants crawling all over it. He didn’t seem to mind, and was rather startled when he turned on the switch. All of his friends seemed in awe of this mysterious device. I also gave him some flip flops I had bought which were really cheap and hadn’t fit properly anyway.

After an hour drive back to the airport, a flight delay, and a rickshaw ride, I was finally home at about 6:30 PM. I really enjoyed my stay in Goa, and I’m working on writing more details about the trip. It would have been much to long to put here, but there were many other things that happened which are worth noting. If I can find the time and have the vacation days, I may go back there for a longer period of time next year. As with all vacations, this one was very enjoyable, but much too short.

Everyday Life

2005-11-17T12:54:00.000-06:00

For the first few weeks I was here, it was very much an adventure and seeing all kinds of new things. In my job, it was similar in that I was meeting new people, getting to see a different side of our business, and trying to determine the lay of the land so to speak. Now, I’m moving toward a feeling of permanence.

I feel like I’ve gotten used to a majority of the cultural differences between here and home. Things are no longer as much of a surprise as they were before, although I still wish I could get some of the food items I was used to at home. And, I’m getting more involved in my job. I’m now beginning the work I was really sent here to do, that is, working on projects to improve the time it takes us to resolve problems for our clients and improve the communications we provide to our clients about those resolutions.

I had been working from 12:00 Noon to 9:00 PM most days, but this week I’ll be working 4:00 PM to 1:00 AM. That will allow me to be present for more of the US Market Day and keep me in better touch with management back home. I worked that shift on Monday, and it just seemed far more productive and valuable than working 12-9. Since I had slept later, I was not really all that tired by the time I finally left at about 2:00 AM.

So, I’m pretty much settled in now. I have 11 more months here in India, and some of that time I’ll be home, including over Christmas and New Year’s. I look forward to seeing everyone then. Over Thanksgiving, I’ll be visiting a place called Goa on the west coast of India. It is a beach place with palm trees and ocean and so forth. I’m looking forward to this getaway, although I’ll miss the turkey and mashed potatoes.

Talk To Me!

2005-11-06T18:38:00.000-06:00

Many of you have mentioned to me how much you have enjoyed reading about my life here in India. I would love to read about your lives back in the States. I do miss all of my family, friends, coworkers, and the places of home, so it would be good to hear how you are doing. I enjoyed Jeff and Andrea wedding photos from John and stories from Molly B., and I have enjoyed Halloween photos from Brian and Halloween photos from Lindsey. Brian and the rest of my small group from church dressed up as the Village People. Oddly enough, so did Lindsey and the rest of the girls from work. Talk about bizarre. See? Tell me more. Send me an e-mail by clicking here.

First Church Service

2005-11-06T18:36:00.000-06:00

Those of you who know me know that I faithfully attend church every Sunday. However, until today, I had not been to church since I came to India. I wanted to go to church, but some Sunday mornings I was so tired that I didn’t get up in time to get to church as most churches start early here. Apparently they don’t know what a wonderful thing a 10:45 start time is or even 5:30 PM (for any Journey people reading). The other thing is I was concerned about finding a church that would teach very basic Biblical principles and have the kind of worship I enjoyed. I had found only a couple possibilities online, so that meant if they didn’t work out I might be out of luck.

Finally today I decided I would visit a church I found online called Christian Fellowship Centre. I had to take a rickshaw, but I made it there OK, and just a few minutes late, which was fine because I could just slip in the back and take my seat. The website had said that the service was from 9:30 to 11:30. I wasn’t excited about a two hour service, but I settled in anyway. I found that one advantage of a two hour service is there is much more singing, which I like. Everything was in English, and there were even a few songs I knew. I was quite pleased that there was a worship band…drummer, keys, guitars, and a couple guys singing. It was hard not to laugh though at hearing Indians sing “You’re Worthy of My Praise.” Their hearts, however, seemed genuine. I was moved by the singing and the message, which was about having a heart of thanksgiving, even in troubled times when things aren’t going well. Given the week I just had, I felt the message was tailor-made for me.

There were a few cultural differences I noticed at CFC. I noticed that for the most part, the men sat on the right side and the women set on the left. The women (well, about 95% of them) also wore scarves over their heads, though not over their faces. I also noticed later that a woman was actually part of the worship band because she was singing into a microphone. However, she was not standing on stage. I figured there could be two reasons for the women wearing scarves and not standing on stage. It could be because of the Indian culture and how it views women and that culture is just being superimposed on the church. That isn’t necessarily a bad thing because the same thing happens in the U.S. Our customs and cultures are a part of who we are and we do bring that to the table in church. The other reason could be that it is part of the belief system of this particular church. If it is because of the church’s beliefs and not just a cultural thing, I’m not sure it is the place for me.

Regardless, it was a very inspiring morning. They asked visitors to stand, which I think is rather embarrassing, and passed out visitor’s packs to us. There was a lunch offered, however, I decided not to partake, what with the stomach problems I’d had earlier in the week. After service I spoke briefly to one man who asked “What are you doing here?” I assumed “here” meant India and not the church, and I told him about Reuters. He happens to work on the same road I do, but on the other side of the airport, which is quite a ways out. We shook hands and I headed on home.

I think I’ll try a few other churches, just to see what is out there…and to see if there is one that has a service shorter than two hours!

Southern Accents, Fireworks, and Bad Seafood

2005-11-05T18:35:00.000-06:00

Well I have had quite the week!

I can certainly say that the best moment of the week was actually on Sunday, one week ago. I headed over to 100 Foot Boutique for some lunch, and I saw a white woman probably in her thirties sitting at one of the tables with a couple young Indian ladies. I had the waiter seat me next to their table. I noticed that the white woman was from the Midwest just by looking at her. She had blonde hair cut into that feathered style on the top and then long in the back. She also was wearing jeans and a denim shirt and tennis shoes. After a few moments I heard her speak. Much to my delight she had a Southern accent! I just listened to her speak for awhile, savoring her words almost more than what I was eating. For a few moments I pretended I was at a restaurant in Tyler, Texas. It really made me feel at home (even though I am not from Texas). The fact of it is, I mostly hear Indian accents (when people are speaking English at all) and if it isn’t Indian, it is British. I’ve only met a couple Americans, so this was a welcome sound. I finally asked her where she was from. I wasn’t too far off in thinking of Tyler because she was from Houston. As it turns out she worked for Hewlett Packard and was here for two weeks doing some training. It was so nice to hear a Southern accent. I don’t think she knew how much she made my day.

Unfortunately, the rest of my week was not so stellar. This week just so happened to be the wonderful festival of Diwali. Pronounced, “Divali”, it is a Hindi celebration of when one of the gods killed a demon, a triumph of good over evil. Diwali is the festival of lights for Hindus. So, there were actually strings of lights hung in the trees outside my apartment building. Sounds a little like Christmas, right? No. Lights also mean fireworks, which may sound like the 4th of July, but that is also incorrect. I don’t think there are any laws regulating the size, strength, number or time of day a person can use fireworks. Now, Diwali was actually on Tuesday, but the celebration really began on Sunday or Monday with loud fireworks right outside my window…all night long. Seriously, it was so bad I didn’t get much sleep on Monday or Tuesday night.

Tuesday night I went with a coworker (Adam from England) to dinner at the Leela. Because of Diwali the place was deserted, except for a few Westerners, and the loud bangs of fireworks all around us sounding like we were under attack. I mean, seriously. It was neat the first 24 hours of constant fireworks, but how many days was this going to last? Oh well. Adam and I had pizza. He had pepperoni, and I tried a seafood pizza. And that I believe was the biggest mistake I have made since I arrived in India.

Wednesday morning I woke up (to the sound of fireworks) with a headache, a fever, and some major uhh….digestive issues. I was so miserable that I could hardly get out of bed. I called in sick, stayed in bed the entire day, and tried to sleep. Thursday my fever and headache were gone, but the stomach issues remained. I did go to work that day, and I went to a place called Pills and Powder to get some Imodium, which helped for a time. Friday morning I was back to feeling exhausted and having digestive problems. I stayed home from work on that day as well. Misery, misery, misery. Saturday my digestive issues seemed to have cleared up, so I decided that I was going to force myself to get cleaned up and get out of the house for a breath of fresh (by Bangalore standards) air. I ended up going to the Forum, which is a quite modern mall not too far away. Since I hadn’t eaten much of anything since that seafood pizza (blech!), I decided I would go to McDonald’s. I had a McChicken, fries, and a diet Coke. It was good, but made my stomach hurt a little bit. Then I remembered that McDonald’s makes me feel that way most of the time. Still, it tasted like home, which was great.

By Saturday evening I was feeling considerably better, but even now the thought of most foods just makes me sick to my stomach. I told Vic (another coworker from England) that I am not going to eat anything besides bread and water from now on.

It’s kind of funny, now that I think about it my week wasn’t all that different than some kids’ weekends on a college campus. Meeting women at restaurants, partying late at night and around the clock and then waking up with a headache and sick at your stomach. What am I complaining about?

What Do I Eat?

2005-10-30T09:44:00.000-06:00

For some reason, several people seem to be especially interested in what I eat here in India. So, I’m going to answer that question.

The best food I have eaten here is at a hotel restaurant. The hotel is called Leela Palace, and is a world-class hotel with a very nice restaurant called Citrus. The hotel is right across the street from Reuters, so I eat there frequently. They have excellent food and an excellent atmosphere. I’ve had everything from a club sandwich to a seafood risotto to an Indian chicken wrap of some kind (spicy!) and I even had steak one night. Generally meals at Citrus cost about $12-$20 depending on what you get. That may sound a little pricey if you were to eat there very often, but it is really worth it. To get the same meal and service in the U.S. would cost at least $40, and most likely a lot more than that.

Next door to my apartment is a place called 100 Foot Boutique. (I live on 100 Foot Road, hence the name.) They have a similar menu to Citrus, and the cost is about the same. The other evening I had grilled Atlantic salmon over spinach in a delicious sauce. It was fantastic. Both Citrus and 100 Foot Boutique have outdoor seating available, and the weather here generally allows for that (even in spite of the rain, which if you were wondering didn't end up causing as many problems as was predicted).

My apartment building has a restaurant on the first floor where you can get a variety of things and they will bring the food to your room. It isn’t as good as Citrus or 100 Foot, but it is cheaper – no item on the menu is more than $3. They also have a free breakfast every morning which includes cereal and eggs and toast.

On the top floor of the Reuters building (actually on the roof) there are some food choices. There is a buffet of Indian food, which I have yet to try and I’m not sure I really want to because it just doesn’t seem to be the best quality, and even the locals say it isn’t the greatest (think cafeteria food Indian style.) There are a couple of caterers up there that will make sandwiches and have other food as well. It tastes OK, but it still has kind of an Indian flavor to it. The good part is that it is VERY cheap – you can get a sandwich for around 50 cents. I've gotten stuff from there a few times.

I do not really cook for myself. I didn’t cook for myself in the US, so why should I cook for myself here? I do have some snack foods and drinks in the small fridge that I have. I bought them from Food World and Fab Mall, which I mentioned in a previous post are like Dollar General, but with food items. They do have brand names like Lipton, Heinz, Pepsi, Gillette (not really food I guess) and others.

Other restaurants where I’ve eaten include Pizza Hut, KFC, and Subway. For the most part they taste like the “real thing”. Subway was the least like home. It didn't seem as fresh or something...it wasn't quite right.

There are street vendors that sell a variety of vegetables and local fare. We have been advised, however, to stay away from getting food from the street vendors because the food can make you ill. India is not a very hygienic place, so there is a strong risk of contamination and disease and who knows what else. I have followed the advice.

I hope you won’t judge me harshly for not delving right into the local cuisine. I’ve got a year to try things out and get my stomach used to the food. Even being as cautious as I have, let me just tell you that my digestive system is still trying to figure out what is going on, even after eating at Citrus and 100 Foot Boutique. Maybe in a year it will figure everything out…just in time for me to get back to Lonestar, Smokey Bones, the Dierberg’s salad bar, and the Aramark Café. (I miss you guys!) St. Louis Bread Co., Einstein Bros., Starbucks...

Bangalore Flooded!!

2005-10-25T10:48:00.000-05:00

It would appear that Bangalore has been flooded. We've had steady rains for the last several days and more rain predicted in the future. Reuters has gone to its business contingency plans, and many staff members are headed home. Business-critical functions are being taken care of either here or somewhere else. For now, I am at home and will be until further notice.

My apartment and street are not really flooded. The rain let up enough for me to be able to walk home, and on my way home I did see some flooding at some homes and even an entire street. I'm thankful that I have not been flooded or anything like that.

The infrastructure here is not the best as is being proved by this situation. Even now on an Indian TV News station, there is a story about the flooding here and how it a sign that the infrastructure needs serious attention by the government. I'm wondering whether storms and rains like this will have a long term effect on the IT industry which seems to have decided to make its home here. There are two monsoon seasons a year here, and certainly flooding has to be a major part of that. We are currently at the tail end of one of the monsoon seasons.

For now, I'm going to hole up in my apartment, watch some TV, get some sleep, read, and play on the computer. It is like a Bangalorian snow day!!

A Few Cultural Differences

2005-10-23T10:41:00.000-05:00

The Head Nod

In the West we move our head up and down when we want to say yes. We move our head left and right when we want to say no. In India, they have this thing that they do with their heads that can mean either yes or no. It is more of a wobble. They kind of cock their heads from side to side. It is really funny and I’ll have to show you when I’m on home leave.

Modesty

I had mentioned innocence in a previous posting. The people here are very modest. I never really see anyone wearing shorts. The women are always very modestly dressed. Sometimes they wear a scarf or shawl that is draped over their shoulders and it covers their breasts. This is over and above the sari that they have on. In addition, I think I can count the number of curse words I’ve heard Indians say on one hand. In addition, I’ve never heard any of them tell a sexual joke or have any other kind of off-color humor.

TV

I am able to get a few American shows on TV such as Friends and Seinfeld reruns and lots of American movies. However, a majority of the channels contain creations of Bollywood, the Indian counterpart of Hollywood. Most of these shows are set to Indian music of some kind and they involve a man and woman doing some kind of funny dance. The woman is always acting shy and reserved and the man is trying to win her over. The scene usually happens on the side of a mountain somewhere or in an Indian-looking temple of one kind or another, and about half the time it is raining. Again, it is something that you can really only understand if you see it for yourself.

Class

The class/caste system is still very much a part of Indian culture. I could do an entire post on this, and I just might. You can easily differentiate between the upper and lower classes. Funny thing is, they coexist on the same street, but rarely have anything to do with one another. Even at the Citrus, a great restaurant in Leela Palace Hotel, each one has his or her uniform which clearly designates who are the hosts and the servers and managers and so forth.

Service

Workers in the service industry love to serve. The folks at the front desk of my apartment are very good about making sure that the little extras are taken care of. Servers in restaurants are extremely polite, and even the guards and janitorial staff at work are extremely polite. The security staff that sits by the doors at work, and the staff that sits at the front desk of my apartments generally always stand when I walk by. I guess some of this goes along with the whole class thing, but it makes me feel kind of uncomfortable. I don’t view myself as part of their system, but they insist on treating me as if I am.

As a side note, when I was shopping this weekend, one of the guys from the UK that came along mentioned the fact that in stores and restaurants and wherever you go, there are always plenty of workers ready to help you. In the malls, most of the stores have at least one guard and they always want to check your bags or get the door for you. In the toy store, there were several women who wanted to help us find what we needed, hold on to our bags, and take very good care of us. This is all because the cost of labor is so cheap, and stores can afford to have enough help, unlike some stores in he US, where you have to hunt down someone to help you. They always help with a positive attitude. It is too bad we can’t outsource this attitude to some American stores and restaurants I know of.

Hand Holding

I was walking down the street one day when I noticed two men walking and holding hands. At first I thought they were gay, but somehow I realized this was not the case. If I walk down the street for any length of time I generally see men holding hands or walking with their arms around each other. It is a sign of friendship I guess, but they are not gay. I was advised, however, that the upper classes of men do not do this. On Saturday, we saw a man who was holding his wife’s hand on the left and a friend’s hand on the right. Interestingly enough, it is very rare to ever see a man and woman showing their affection to one another publicly.

Convenience

There is absolutely nothing convenient about living in Bangalore. There is no Target, no large grocery stores offering 4 dozen brands of every product, no place like Chesterfield Valley, where in a matter of an hour you can get every imaginable product you want. There are areas of town that have tons of teeny little specialized shops where you can get stuff you want. There is a sunglasses shop where I bought some contact lens solution. There is an electrical shop where I finally found and adapter for my laptop cord. There is a computer shop where I bought a wireless mouse for my laptop at work. All of these shops are little hole-in-the-wall type places and if you aren’t looking for it, you could walk right by a store that has something you need.

Livestock

It is true. There are cows in the middle of the street. I think I mentioned this previously, but it still amazes me that just down the street from the Reuters office and the world class Leela Palace hotel there are cows roaming around. Amazingly, the cows are never harmed by anyone. The cows are considered sacred by Hindus. However, the young people are not as concerned with this tradition, as I was informed by some of the people with whom I work.

Auto Rickshaws

2005-10-23T06:46:00.000-05:00

If you’ve ever played the video game Frogger and gotten to a high level, then you know what it is like to try to cross the street in Bangalore, except for the fact that the traffic in Bangalore is not as orderly. Traffic is simply a nightmare. I don’t have a car here, and driving would be horrible anyway. So what better way to get around in the city than in an auto rickshaw!

These great little vehicles are small, easy to hail, and, best of all, cheap. Here is a photo of one. The driver is dressed in the standard dress of an auto rickshaw driver – a khaki-colored shirt and pants.

So, how much does a trip in one of these fine vehicles cost? Well, it really depends. There is a meter, however, it is not very often that the rickshaw driver will want to charge you the meter price, mostly because he can see you are a Westerner, and you can afford more. So, you go up to a rickshaw driver, and tell him where you need to go. The driver will then say whether or not he wants to take you. I’ve had some of them tell me no. If he accepts the location, then most of the time, he will suggest a price. This price is, of course, very inflated from what it would cost you on the meter. For example, the meter fair for my ride to work is the lowest possible fair, 10 rupees ($0.22).

I do happen to live within reasonable walking distance of work, however if it is raining or too hot, I definitely find a rickshaw to take me. The first day I was here I hired a rickshaw to take me to work, not knowing how far away it was. When I told them where I needed to go, I asked him how much it would cost. The answer: 70 rupees. I paid the fair, not knowing it should have only cost 10. Such is the art of dealing with rickshaw drivers.

If he suggests a price that is out of range, I generally suggest a lower price. I’ve had offers to take me to work for 50 rupees. I’ll off 30, and then maybe I’ll end up paying 40. If the driver does my trip to work on the meter, I’ll pay him double, just for being fair. That costs 20 rupees ($0.44).

Regardless, the rides are still very, very cheap, considering how convenient they are and considering exchange rates.

This weekend I did a little shopping with a couple guys who are assigned here from Reuters in England. We went to a toy store, and what should we find but toy auto rickshaws! Awesome. I bought two.

Helpdesk Summer Camp

2005-10-17T08:19:00.000-05:00

This past weekend I went on an employee outing with some of the people from the data helpdesk at Reuters.

We left at about 3:00 PM on Saturday in a bus/van that was not air conditioned, although it did not really get that hot. After we picked everyone up, we stopped at a resort called Remanshree California where we thought we were going to stay. As it turned out, the team leaders, Achyuthah and Bharath, decided that the accommodations were not sufficient. They thought they had certain rooms reserved, but apparently the resort had given them up to another company and wanted to give us different rooms. Achyuthah and Bharath checked out the rooms, decided they were not adequate, and decided to go to a different resort.

So on we went to the Silver Oak Resort. (There were no oak trees and no silver that I could see.) What was interesting about this was that even though we had no reservations we were able to get rooms enough for everyone (about 20 of us 3 or 4 to a room), use a conference room for games and other fun, and have a buffet dinner.

The whole weekend outing with the team reminded me of summer camp. The accommodations at Silver Oak were definitely more of a camp feel than a resort or hotel feel, but they were satisfactory. The accommodations alone, however, were not what made me think of camp. After everyone had settled in and found their rooms, we went into a meeting room and decided to play some games.

Seemingly out of nowhere there was a DJ. So, what better game to play when you have a DJ than musical chairs?! The rule was that we could not just walk around the chairs, we had to dance. This was a ton of fun. The winner was awarded a trophy (a ceramic ash tray) and a gold medal (a camcorder case around the neck). Loud cheers went up for the winner.

Then came charades. We only did movie titles, and we had the option of doing Hindi or English movies. Needless to say I was clueless on the Hindi movies. My team won that game and the ash tray and camcorder case were passed on to us.

After charades, they turned down the lights and the DJ pumped up the music and there was dancing. The music selection was actually an excellent blend of R&B and hip-hop as well as some Indian tunes (the likes of which words can never really describe) all mixed to a grooving beat.

What intrigued me so much to this point was the fact that these young people enjoyed the same activities as young people in the US…drinking, dancing, games, great laughs and a ton of fun. Were it not for the obvious fact that these folks were from India, it would have been hard to distinguish this Saturday night from a Saturday night on the town in the US.

After the dancing…which, for those of you who think I can’t dance, the girls said I did a great job and they liked my craziness (or “acting” as they called it)…we had dinner and sat around outside talking. They decided to go around and each person had to sing his or her favorite song and say why they liked it. Some of them chose older Indian songs, however, many of them chose pop American songs. One of the guys busted out Bryan Adams’ “Please Forgive Me” very passionately, with an Indian accent of course. It was hard to stifle my laugh.

The next day we played cricket (I joined, but still have no idea how to play), went swimming, had lunch, and pretty much took it easy for the whole day before going home that afternoon.

On the way home, Rhagu yelled out “Three cheers for Reuters! Hip hip…Hooray! Three cheers for helpdesk! Hip hip…Hooray!” When we passed Remanshree California we cheered them as well, in spite of their terrible accommodations.

Will, an international assignee from the UK, said that the people here are very innocent. I think that is why it seemed like summer camp to me. When I was going down the water slide and playing in the pool with some of the guys, there was such a care-free spirit and such a playfulness that you don’t see with a lot of the guys our age in the US. I think that just made it so much more fun.

I came back from the trip sunburned and exhausted, but I was really glad I went. It gave me a chance to get to know some of the people I’ll be working with. I’ll tell more about them in a future entry.

Things I Have Seen In India

2005-10-11T23:05:00.000-05:00

I would love to be able to share not only the sights, but also the smells, sounds, and feelings I have had as I have come across the following things while I’ve been here in India. On the other hand, it would be good for you to imagine yourself experiencing the following things. Imagine the smells, imagine the sounds, and imagine your internal reaction to these things. Keep in mind, that these are all things I have seen to date, and I have only been here for three days:

· A little girl wrapping her arms around my leg, looking up at me and saying something in a language I could not understand when I stepped out of my apartment for a walk down the street for the first time.
· A cow laying on the sidewalk, its manure close by.
· A thick cloud of smog hovering over the roads, all of it fumes and exhaust coming from auto rickshaws, buses, cars, and lots of motorcycles.
· Arrow (men’s clothes), Lee Jeans, and Reebok stores
· A woman, quite filthy herself, cleaning some kind of cloth or clothing using water from a dirty jar (not to far from the Arrow and Lee Jeans stores).
· Later, where the woman had been cleaning, a make-shift shelter designed to keep out the rain.
· In one of the food stores (it is called Food World, but think Dollar General with some food items) a skin cream intended to make your skin lighter.
· A barefoot man unloading a truck at Food World.
· A luxurious dining room, reminding me of an Indian palace, where I had lunch with my manager on the first day.
· Homes of doctors, gated and guarded on the same streets where I have seen all of the things I have mentioned so far.
· My apartment building, also gated and guarded.
· Mangy dogs roaming the streets. I try to avoid them for fear of being bitten and getting some kind of disease.
· Sidewalks – a mix of bricks, dirt, mud, concrete, and who knows what other kind of substance.
· TGI Fridays
· A man on crutches asking me for money just outside the airport.
· The man who helped me with my luggage at the airport asking me for something smaller after I had given him a 50 rupees (about $0.60). I gave him an additional 20 rupees (about $0.13) and said I had nothing smaller.

I hope to soon be able to take some pictures to share with you, especially of the shops, the office buildings, and the rickshaws.

Safe Landing

2005-10-09T12:00:00.000-05:00

I landed quite safely in Bangalore late Saturday night (early Sunday morning, actually), and was transported to my apartment. It was a little more involved than that, as you might imagine.

When I got off the plane, we went into the airport and went through a line where our passports were checked. Then, I changed my dollars to rupees, picked up my luggage and then proceeded out, only to be stopped by some security detail who wanted to check my luggage. They only sent my largest bag through the scanner. The guy asked what I had in there, and honestly I couldn’t remember. He was looking at some of the stuff that I had packed in between shirts and pants and so forth. I had tons of little gadgets in there. I said I didn’t know and he said, OK, you may go. Nice security.

I proceeded down the way to be greeted by several men urgent to help me with my luggage, none of them employed by the airport I am quite sure. I agreed to let one of them push my luggage out.

As we proceeded outside, I spotted the man who was holding my name up on his card. I caught his eye and he led us to the car. However, between the time we met and the time we got to the car, it had started to pour down rain. At that point it all became a mad rush of rain and car horns and doors and luggage until suddenly I found myself in a funny van-like vehicle driving down the dark, rainy streets of a foreign city, in a foreign country, having no idea who was driving me, and no true idea of where I was going.

I did arrive at the apartments just fine and was checked in. As I had slept a lot of the way, I was not all that tired…or so I thought. I took a shower (imagine my smell after 20 some odd hours on airplanes with no shower and then drenched in rain) and went to bed.

Such was my first night in India.

Countdown Continues

2005-10-05T22:40:00.000-05:00

Sky Diving. I'm comparing my trip to India to a sky diving adventure. I've never been sky diving, but I imagine that each successive step of taking off in the plane, climbing to 10,000 feet, opening the plane door, and watching people jump out just before it is my turn would make me nervous, excited, and scared all at the same time. That is how I feel about India right now.

I am quite sure that I am not, nor could I ever be, prepared for what lies ahead. And that is what makes this so exciting. Once I jump off the plane in India (relax, Mom, it is a figure of speech) , I am sure that it will be a great experience, but I have no real idea what to expect.

I had two parties: one at Melting Pot with my family and friends, the other at Lone Star with work people. I was really feeling the love. Here is a group photo of the work crew at Lone Star. I love you guys! Thanks for a really fun night. Photos from Melting Pot coming soon.

All my stuff has been moved to storage. Thanks to Dad and the guys for helping out. I'm staying with a friend tonight and tomorrow, and I'll fly out on Friday.

I'm looking forward to sharing more stories and photos with you on this page. Leave a comment and let me know you are checking this thing out!

More to come...
Matt

Flight Information

2005-09-16T09:34:00.000-05:00

For those of you who may be wondering, here is my flight information:

Depart: St. Louis - 3:45 PM, October 7, United Airlines 8058
Arrive: Chicago - 4:59 OM, October 7

Depart: Chicago - 6:15 PM, October 7, United Airlines 0940
Arrive: Frankfurt, Germany - 9:45 AM, October 8

Depart: Frankfurt, Germany - 11:45 AM, October 8, United Airlines 8898 (Lufthansa)
Arrive: Bangalore, India - 12:15 AM, October 9

Note: Because of the time differences, it looks like I'm taking a 40 hour flight. That is actually NOT the case. It is ONLY going to be like 19 or 20 hours!

What Is Possible...

2005-08-28T01:00:00.000-05:00

So, in just 6 weeks or so I will be leaving for Bangalore, India to take on a one year assignment for my job. I'm hoping that a friend or family member or two might miss me. If they do, I'd like them to have a place to go to see what is going on in my life. It would be neat to be able to post photos and thoughts of my travels and experiences over the next year. It would be very difficult to consistently e-mail these photos and thoughts to my friends and family. That would take a lot of time and good record keeping. So WHAT IS POSSIBLE is that I can create a blog site as a central location for the purpose of updating those I love on my life.