Currently sitting in my favorite coffee shop in this country with a hazelnut latte keeping me company. People do tea really well here, but a lot of times "coffee" means Nescafe. No thanks to that. This is seriously the best latte I've had since I was in Thailand in December and splurged on an American based company that shall remain nameless. :) This one cost approximately $1 USD and is easily 12 oz. Yes, please!
The loud Bollywood music in the background makes it taste that much better.
3.24.2011
3.22.2011
Options
One thing I love about this place is endless options. The other night I was digging through the trunk that is currently serving as a table for our router, intercom, and landline phone. (We like to keep it classy around here). I had completely forgotten what I shoved in there when I moved. I found a long sleeve shirt from home. Clearly I had no idea what to bring when I came over here. I can never wear this here, I thought, and started to toss it aside. But then I remembered. I live in the mecca of tailors. What is wrong with me? Why am I still thinking like I'm in America? Some man down the street within a five minute walking distance will be delighted to make this into a short sleeve shirt for me for a small sum of money. I found a long skirt packed away that I never wear here (again, what was I thinking?). Man, I wish this was about knee length so I could wear it later. Oh wait...it can be. I like that for all the craziness here, you can pretty much do whatever you want. Or rather, you can pay a manageable amount to get somebody else to do whatever you want.
3.21.2011
Who knows what
Just this morning I joked about Indian men knowing where I live. This afternoon I went out to buy some curtains. When I came out to get an auto home, a man standing by the auto (not even the driver of this particular one) saw me, smiled, said the name of my apartment complex, and nodded at me to sit down.
I stared at him dumbly for several seconds. He then proceeded to tell the actual auto driver to go just past a cinema that I use as a landmark and take me to the out gate, because that is where I like to be dropped off. I kept staring dumbly and finally laughed. They may not know my name but they certainly know where I live.
I stared at him dumbly for several seconds. He then proceeded to tell the actual auto driver to go just past a cinema that I use as a landmark and take me to the out gate, because that is where I like to be dropped off. I kept staring dumbly and finally laughed. They may not know my name but they certainly know where I live.
3.20.2011
Never Boring
Things are never boring here. I honestly can’t recall the last time I uttered the sentence, “I’m bored.” It’s probably never happened here. There’s always an adventure around the corner, always a kink in the plans, always something waiting to go awry and turn into some scenario that never crossed your mind that this could happen. That's pretty much my life these days. Sometimes I wish things were boring. You know that song from “Cheers” where the person just wants to be where everybody knows their name? Well, sometimes I just want to be in a place where no one wants to know my name and no one is staring at me.
Things that would be mundane in America, but here are anything but:
1) Getting money from the ATM. First off, it’s a big deal that there are even ATMs in this country. Only in the last few years have they become widespread. Some towns of 2 or 3 million people didn’t even HAVE an ATM until 5 years ago. I’m not entirely convinced that people know how to use them either. I can go into the ATM room and be done in less than 2 minutes even if I deliberate how many rupees I should get and if the machine has to really think about giving me a receipt. Indians average about 5 minutes. I have literally been dragged into the room by old ladies who have wanted me to use their card for them because they weren’t sure what to do. Anyway, the other day I was in a hurry (mistake number one) to catch a train and I was totally out of money and out of town. After a series of unfortunate events and bad decisions that led me to what is probably my least favorite ATM in this country, I got in line with exactly 11 people in line in front of me. Fantastic, this should take 55 minutes, just enough time for me to miss the train. I had been in line about 20 seconds when the beggar children literally pounced on me. What a fantastic time to be alone in this country. We had just become best friends the day before, but I was alone this time. These kids are persistent, and I knew I shouldn’t talk to them or encourage them (basically respond at all) while I was alone and in a place that I couldn't leave. Easier said than done. After watching curiously for a few minutes to see how I would respond, some guys in front of me came to my rescue and tried to shoo them away. Two guys eventually physically moved the children off of me. The kids moved about five feet over to the left and continued calling out. Now there are only ten people in front of me in line. 25 minutes later there were only four guys in front of me (the ones that had physically removed the beggar children from me). They decided to strike up a conversation with me. I was going to use this to my advantage.
Indian boys: “Hello! You…how are you? Coming from?”
Me: “Bhaiya, I’m late! I need to go quickly! My train is going to leave without me!”
Indian boys, all moving aside: “Oh madam, you will please go in front of us!”
Well if you insist, I think I will please go in front of you. Thanks for that. And lest you think I am completely cold-hearted, those kids really had a hey-day with us the previous day. One of them who is probably about four years old chased me down the street and wrapped himself around my leg and clung so tightly that I couldn’t walk. He looked up at me with these beautiful dark eyes from under a mass of matted, gnarled, hair and smiled at me as he hugged me. I know he wanted money, but my heart totally melted and I gave in and scratched his head and rubbed his cheeks and smiled back.
2) Ordering food for delivery over the phone. It’s rarely a good idea to communicate something important or details on the phone here. Even in the middle of conversations people are constantly saying, “Halloooo? Haaallo!” to whomever they’re talking to. So I had a nice long conversation with the man at Subway who was going to deliver our sandwiches after our train ride. Yes, Subway delivers here and they all greet us like old friends every time we go there. Here’s an excerpt.
“Yes, can I place an order for delivery?”
“Sure, why not!”
My roommate tells them what she wants. I tell them what I want.
“All veg ma’am?”
“No. Only lettuce, tomato, onion, pickle.”
“You do not want capsicum [bell pepper]?”
“No.”
“You do not want olives or cucumber?”
“No.”
“Ok, so what vegetables you want?”
“LETTUCE, TOMATO, ONION, PICKLE.”
“Ok. Lettuce, tomato, onion.”
“AND PICKLE.”
“Oh yes. OK…..You want Diet Coke and cookies?”
“Sure, why not.”
“Oh, this is a very nice order madam!”
“Yes, I think so too.”
Then everyone on the train got to hear me shout my name and address into the phone. Just what I want all the Indian men to know, my name and where I live. Because you know, they’re not forward at all here.
Things that would be mundane in America, but here are anything but:
1) Getting money from the ATM. First off, it’s a big deal that there are even ATMs in this country. Only in the last few years have they become widespread. Some towns of 2 or 3 million people didn’t even HAVE an ATM until 5 years ago. I’m not entirely convinced that people know how to use them either. I can go into the ATM room and be done in less than 2 minutes even if I deliberate how many rupees I should get and if the machine has to really think about giving me a receipt. Indians average about 5 minutes. I have literally been dragged into the room by old ladies who have wanted me to use their card for them because they weren’t sure what to do. Anyway, the other day I was in a hurry (mistake number one) to catch a train and I was totally out of money and out of town. After a series of unfortunate events and bad decisions that led me to what is probably my least favorite ATM in this country, I got in line with exactly 11 people in line in front of me. Fantastic, this should take 55 minutes, just enough time for me to miss the train. I had been in line about 20 seconds when the beggar children literally pounced on me. What a fantastic time to be alone in this country. We had just become best friends the day before, but I was alone this time. These kids are persistent, and I knew I shouldn’t talk to them or encourage them (basically respond at all) while I was alone and in a place that I couldn't leave. Easier said than done. After watching curiously for a few minutes to see how I would respond, some guys in front of me came to my rescue and tried to shoo them away. Two guys eventually physically moved the children off of me. The kids moved about five feet over to the left and continued calling out. Now there are only ten people in front of me in line. 25 minutes later there were only four guys in front of me (the ones that had physically removed the beggar children from me). They decided to strike up a conversation with me. I was going to use this to my advantage.
Indian boys: “Hello! You…how are you? Coming from?”
Me: “Bhaiya, I’m late! I need to go quickly! My train is going to leave without me!”
Indian boys, all moving aside: “Oh madam, you will please go in front of us!”
Well if you insist, I think I will please go in front of you. Thanks for that. And lest you think I am completely cold-hearted, those kids really had a hey-day with us the previous day. One of them who is probably about four years old chased me down the street and wrapped himself around my leg and clung so tightly that I couldn’t walk. He looked up at me with these beautiful dark eyes from under a mass of matted, gnarled, hair and smiled at me as he hugged me. I know he wanted money, but my heart totally melted and I gave in and scratched his head and rubbed his cheeks and smiled back.
2) Ordering food for delivery over the phone. It’s rarely a good idea to communicate something important or details on the phone here. Even in the middle of conversations people are constantly saying, “Halloooo? Haaallo!” to whomever they’re talking to. So I had a nice long conversation with the man at Subway who was going to deliver our sandwiches after our train ride. Yes, Subway delivers here and they all greet us like old friends every time we go there. Here’s an excerpt.
“Yes, can I place an order for delivery?”
“Sure, why not!”
My roommate tells them what she wants. I tell them what I want.
“All veg ma’am?”
“No. Only lettuce, tomato, onion, pickle.”
“You do not want capsicum [bell pepper]?”
“No.”
“You do not want olives or cucumber?”
“No.”
“Ok, so what vegetables you want?”
“LETTUCE, TOMATO, ONION, PICKLE.”
“Ok. Lettuce, tomato, onion.”
“AND PICKLE.”
“Oh yes. OK…..You want Diet Coke and cookies?”
“Sure, why not.”
“Oh, this is a very nice order madam!”
“Yes, I think so too.”
Then everyone on the train got to hear me shout my name and address into the phone. Just what I want all the Indian men to know, my name and where I live. Because you know, they’re not forward at all here.
3.17.2011
I'm baaack...
in the land of internet! And it's in my very own flat! And it's delightful! :) More later. For now, Happy St. Pattys Day!
3.08.2011
A bit of the randomness in my life...
1. There are HUGE goats that live across the street from me. Like almost pony size. I'm simultaneously terrified and fascinated. I am also very thankful they are tied up.
2. Who knew that I could get wireless internet if I come to the mall and sit at the table next to the column in front of Pizza Hut?! I have to position my computer just right and be super careful not to move it an inch or so because otherwise the signal drops, but it's free internet in the food court! One point for India. Good work.
3. I am happy to report that the painting was miraculously finished today! It's amazing what lighting a fire under a couple men here can accomplish. I literally could not believe how fast they painted everything today and still can't believe it's done. Pictures eventually.
4. I paid my delinquent phone bill! And I don't even think I will incur the "late fee" they are threatening me with via texting.
5. We're pretty settled and I think if you send mail, I'll actually get it now! If you want my new address, email me.
6. The above is in no way meant to be taken that I am in need of anything. :)
7. Every night the same man sleeps on the same spot on the street in front of my flat. I can see him from my window and check every night to see if he's there. He always is. He makes my heart indescribably sad, both for the way he lives and the way I do.
8. Getting our apartment painted has stretched my language to the max, probably in a good way.
9. The days are in the double digits until I see my family. I get teary eyed and ecstatic just thinking about it. I have a feeling the Rome reunion is going to be full of (joyful) tears and hugging and squealing. I. CAN'T. WAIT.
10. I hope we get internet soon because it will be more convenient, but this is a good excuse for me to come sit in the air-conditioned mall and eat all kinds of good food. I wonder what the employees think about the steady stream of foreigners that keep bringing their computers to the same table for the unadvertised free wifi?
2. Who knew that I could get wireless internet if I come to the mall and sit at the table next to the column in front of Pizza Hut?! I have to position my computer just right and be super careful not to move it an inch or so because otherwise the signal drops, but it's free internet in the food court! One point for India. Good work.
3. I am happy to report that the painting was miraculously finished today! It's amazing what lighting a fire under a couple men here can accomplish. I literally could not believe how fast they painted everything today and still can't believe it's done. Pictures eventually.
4. I paid my delinquent phone bill! And I don't even think I will incur the "late fee" they are threatening me with via texting.
5. We're pretty settled and I think if you send mail, I'll actually get it now! If you want my new address, email me.
6. The above is in no way meant to be taken that I am in need of anything. :)
7. Every night the same man sleeps on the same spot on the street in front of my flat. I can see him from my window and check every night to see if he's there. He always is. He makes my heart indescribably sad, both for the way he lives and the way I do.
8. Getting our apartment painted has stretched my language to the max, probably in a good way.
9. The days are in the double digits until I see my family. I get teary eyed and ecstatic just thinking about it. I have a feeling the Rome reunion is going to be full of (joyful) tears and hugging and squealing. I. CAN'T. WAIT.
10. I hope we get internet soon because it will be more convenient, but this is a good excuse for me to come sit in the air-conditioned mall and eat all kinds of good food. I wonder what the employees think about the steady stream of foreigners that keep bringing their computers to the same table for the unadvertised free wifi?
3.07.2011
Indian Work Ethic
I should start this out by saying that some people in this country work really hard. I can name a handful of them, but there are a lot of people here, so that leaves a lot of room for the ones that “work.” Now that I’m thinking about it, it’s the men that seem to do most of the “work” around here, and women are the ones that actually work-work. (Though that is not completely true either, as women in administration here tend to be a legalistic nightmare. That’s a story for another time).
Case and point: The men that are painting our flat right now. They “work” from 9 to 5, but that’s a very loose description of their hours. Let me tell you what 9 to 5 really means. It means they will show up at 9:40 and they will not start painting until almost 10:30. Around 11 they will tell you they want a chai break. They will have a 20 minute chai break. At 1:45, they say it is their lunch time for one hour. At 3:15 they will actually start painting again. At 4:30 they will say they are done and will take another chai break. I’m sure getting paid by the day would be a great motivator to drag out work as long as possible unless you unexpectedly have two crazy, loud white girls hassling you telling you they aren’t going to put up with you cheating them and that sitting around on chai breaks doesn’t count as working. On the bright side, I’m getting better and better at making chai.
Another example: the man we need to hook up our landline/internet. Apparently it is possible to drag this process out for almost a month with no end in sight. Every time we go to the office or call them, not surprisingly, the man is conveniently “working” from home that day (read: apparently every day).
When I first got here a year ago I wondered why in the world things never seemed to get done. How could this be possible? I had heard countless times before I got here to not expect things quickly, how much extra time things can take, and had been told I was going to have to let the “J” (Myers-Briggs, anyone?) inside of me relax or I would go crazy. Which is totally true, by the way. If you try to stay organized and make plans here and expect them to actually happen, you will probably lose your mind. Now I know that anything that gets done here is by the grace of God whether it takes a week or a month.
I realized today I’ve slowly started to bend to the culture this way. My phone bill was definitely due two days ago. Oops? All I have to do to pay it is take an auto to the mall about 5 minutes away and go to the self service kiosk and type in my phone number and put the money in the machine. Seriously one of the easiest things to do here. And afterward I will get no less than 4 text messages notifying me that I used a kiosk, my bill has been paid, the amount that I paid, and thank you! from Vodafone. But somehow, this keeps slipping my mind because it is not a top priority to me here. In America I would have been mortified, but here? Meh, that kiosk is still going to be there tomorrow. I’m sure of it. Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s time for my chai break…
Case and point: The men that are painting our flat right now. They “work” from 9 to 5, but that’s a very loose description of their hours. Let me tell you what 9 to 5 really means. It means they will show up at 9:40 and they will not start painting until almost 10:30. Around 11 they will tell you they want a chai break. They will have a 20 minute chai break. At 1:45, they say it is their lunch time for one hour. At 3:15 they will actually start painting again. At 4:30 they will say they are done and will take another chai break. I’m sure getting paid by the day would be a great motivator to drag out work as long as possible unless you unexpectedly have two crazy, loud white girls hassling you telling you they aren’t going to put up with you cheating them and that sitting around on chai breaks doesn’t count as working. On the bright side, I’m getting better and better at making chai.
Another example: the man we need to hook up our landline/internet. Apparently it is possible to drag this process out for almost a month with no end in sight. Every time we go to the office or call them, not surprisingly, the man is conveniently “working” from home that day (read: apparently every day).
When I first got here a year ago I wondered why in the world things never seemed to get done. How could this be possible? I had heard countless times before I got here to not expect things quickly, how much extra time things can take, and had been told I was going to have to let the “J” (Myers-Briggs, anyone?) inside of me relax or I would go crazy. Which is totally true, by the way. If you try to stay organized and make plans here and expect them to actually happen, you will probably lose your mind. Now I know that anything that gets done here is by the grace of God whether it takes a week or a month.
I realized today I’ve slowly started to bend to the culture this way. My phone bill was definitely due two days ago. Oops? All I have to do to pay it is take an auto to the mall about 5 minutes away and go to the self service kiosk and type in my phone number and put the money in the machine. Seriously one of the easiest things to do here. And afterward I will get no less than 4 text messages notifying me that I used a kiosk, my bill has been paid, the amount that I paid, and thank you! from Vodafone. But somehow, this keeps slipping my mind because it is not a top priority to me here. In America I would have been mortified, but here? Meh, that kiosk is still going to be there tomorrow. I’m sure of it. Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s time for my chai break…
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