Life's an Adventure

If hair could be happy

2010-08-04T20:38:00.001+05:30

If hair could be happy each of my stands would be gleaming with shine. When I first got to India I had heard of this concept called hair fall. What is that you ask? Well ask pantene, fructis or dove. It when you hair cuticuls get damaged and you hair becomes lack-luster, thin, and falls out. My once healthy long blonde hair is now a tuft of straw with a crown of frizz where the weak strands have broken under pressure.

So why is my hair so happy? Because I am going home soon and even a week away from the Indian air and water polution is a reprieve from the daily torment.

Beyond my hair, my friend once told me that living each day in Mumbai is equivilant to smoking 20 ciggarettes a day so might as well take up the habit and at least benifit from the nicotine high. Just one year here has seriously taken a toll on my body, my skin, my lungs and my hair. I only hope that it all goes back to normal when the polution showdown is over.

Bangalore oh Bangalore

2010-08-04T20:33:00.001+05:30

I was finally able to make it down to Bangalore. It is the home of my great roomate Saabira and my company's beautiful office. I had heard a few stories about this place and I had to see it to believe it.

In Bangalore it is illegal to dance. That it right, you read it correctly. Illigal to shake those hips and drop it like it's hot. My friend once said that he forgot where he was and having a few drinks in him starting tapping his toes and shaking his leg. Sure enough a few minutes later he felt a tap on the sholder only to turn and see a bouncer tellin him to stop.

Apparantly back in-the-day Bangalore used to be the king of party towns and there were major issues with drinking and driving and drug abuse so the state cracked down. They enforced an 11:30 curfew and stopped the youth from boogeying late into the night. Now instead of being out at a bar meeting others and mingling in a socially acceptable manner the rules have cause people to go out earlier, binge for a few hours before getting into their cars to meet at the house of a hosting friend only to consume more alchohol than they would have in the begining and causing potentially more danger on the roads. Smart move Govn't.

Now on top of those two restrictions the state is debating whether to make the consumption and sale if beef illegal. Although up north it is rarely seen on menus it is by religious choice and not goverend by the state.

As one of my Bangalore born and raised friends put it so nicely, "There is already no dancing, if this beef thing gets passed I am never coming back."

Hummers in LA

2010-08-04T20:26:00.001+05:30

Today I was walking through the colabra markets in Mumbai with Shannon and her driver Mohammed The section of the market that we were in was filled with antiques. There were stalls and tents filled with clocks, saxaphones and old bollywood posters. Strolling would be a peaceful exaggeration as we played frogger in the streets with the black and yellow taxis, man pulled carts and dead/discusting things in the road. Then it hit 2:00 and the rain came pouring down. We ducked for cover under a blue tarped stall where there was a seafoam green old Chrysler p
Plymouth car parked halfway under the makeshift roof. I leaned on it for pictures posing awkwardly to keep protected from the storm.

As I was treating the car like my property all I could think about was the reaction of one of my Indian staff members when I asked her how her trip to NY and Orlando was. "oh my god, Americans care souch about their cars! I was really tired one day so I stopped to take a break so I leaned on a car and this guy comes running out of the shop yelling at me to get of his car..." I briefly looked around me at all of the dings and broken bumpers and laughed. Indians buy cars knowing they will be driving through Delhi or Mumbai traffic, never inbetween the lines if they are even painted and will be parked on the street. They could never fully understand the protective nature over a car as we do in the states. They would just be happy that thier mirror is still attached from the night before.

Is it strange...

2010-07-12T21:32:00.003+05:30

That I don't burn in Delhi?

I guess it is not when you think about the layer of pollution that is hovering overhead. I never use sunscreen except on my face. Since I have formed this bad habit, when I travel outside of delhi I forget to apply and fry.

Lesson learned...? Hopefully.

Friends in the City

2010-07-08T20:46:00.000+05:30

Sarah and Travis came to Delhi to explore the city for two days as a reprieve from the rainy Goan beaches and and getting accustomed back to Civilization after spending two months in the beautiful little village of Jarang where I was a couple months ago working on the school. Travis was the architect and designer while Sarah patiently photographed and showed each woman, man and child each picture after the click.

I absolutely love showing people around Delhi. I know that these two would have no problem finding their way through the city after being in Jarang, Gorka and Kathmandu, but India can be a harsh place for foreigners and I find it my duty to make sure that each person who comes though what I now consider to be "my city" has a positive and enjoyable experience. It is such a fascinating place and people want to see as much as possible but all of the haggling and begging can wear down even the hardest of minds including those who live here and see it every day.

So I arrange a car, one of my two trusty drivers who I can count on to be friendly, knowledgeable and reliable who also have seat belts, AC and window to keep out the grabbing hands of the street children.

The normal sites that cannot be missed:

Qutab Minar
(drink at Magique in the garden of 5 senses or Olive bar & kitchen if the time)
Lotus Temple
Dilli Haat Bazaar
(touristy and overpriced, but great stuff and fun place to haggle without the hassle of hundreds of people)
Humayan's Tomb
Drive through Connaught Place (CP) for a view of the colonial impact and financial district
(if here around lunch go into the
Presidents House, Parliament and India Gate (drive-by are fine)
Red Fort
Bike Rickshaw Ride through the allies of Old Delhi
Jama Masjid - largest mosque in Asia
(climb the minaret. It is worth every second of it, unless you are scared of heights or are claustrophobic. The climb is up a tight spiral staircase)
Sufi Singers in Nizamuddin
(Only on Thursdays and really intense so be ready for it. Down a small alley, just ask the auto driver to go to the Nizamuddin Karim's Restaurant).
A ride in an Auto Rickshaw

If you have the time:

Akshardham
(across the Yumana - and go early before the school children take over)
Ghandi Smirti
Safdarjung's Tomb
Jantar Mantar
Lodi Gardens
(Relax with a drink at the Lodi Restaurant)
Ruins of Hauz Khas
(While here eat a Dosa at Navidium or Karelan food at Gun Powder - if you can find it)
Tapas and Wine at the Aman Hotel
(usually jazz music in the background on Fridays)
Sarojini Nagar Market
(Packed! Best place for clothes - usually you can haggle a dress down to 150 Rs. and a shirt to 50-100 Rs.)

There is so much to see in this great city and this list just scratches the surface. Come prepared with tons of water, a shirt that doesn't show sweat, comfortable shoes and a attitude ready for adventure and you will love it here!

Writers Block

2010-07-07T23:19:00.001+05:30

I would love to say that writing my posts comes easily to me, but it really takes a lot of effort, imagination, and the right splash of inspiration. That is why there are so many bursts and lulls. I have so many interesting thoughts that run through my head on a daily basis that I would love to share, but most of the time I find that my inspirations comes while laying in bed late at night trying to fall asleep and too lazy to reach for my computer or while I am swerving traffic in a rickshaw wondering if I am ever going to make it to my desired destination.

Sometimes it is just a quick reflection: On the way to all you can eat sushi and dinner with friends my rickshaw driver got so lost that I was on the road for an extra 30 minutes. I ate enough exhaust, dust, pollution and sweat to fill me up for the night. There goes my appetite.

As the Rains Come Crashing Down

2010-07-06T16:00:00.000+05:30

The soothing rain has finally hit Delhi and is here to feed the dry land and cool the air. I am sitting at my desk with my balcony door open listening to the rain crash down on the hundreds of houses below. It is incredibly humid but only 92 degrees; one of the first days that I have not used my AC.

We are lucky that the rain is not destructive as in other areas. I am hoping to see it in full force later this month in Bombay where the monsoons really come crashing down, flooding the streets, sending the rats to higher ground and the people to whatever shelter they can find.

It is refreshing, calming, relaxing, and good for all of the farms that have not had a proper monsoon in three years.

Busy Living

2010-07-06T00:45:00.002+05:30

There is so much to post about and in due time I will. During the past two months I was moving around a lot and I was busy living life instead of writing about it, but with the recent turn of events, things have slowed down and I now have nothing but time.

Look forward to the recaps on some of the greatest months of my life.

In the meantime I am going to put on my trusty headlamp head to the bathroom and brush my teeth in the dark due to the power cuts.

Home is Relative

2010-07-05T13:01:00.000+05:30

In the last month and a half I have been traveling a lot. I love it, but it makes things a little confusing especially when you are crossing the boarders of not only country lines; but lines of culture, socio-ecomic status, and expected roles. Last month I went to Nepal, to India, to the US, back to India, to China – Shanghai, Beijing and Hong Kong and now back to India once again. I have been a pseudo daughter, a volunteer, an independent businesswoman, a great friend, an organizer, and a protective mother. I have sat on both the floor and at fancy tall tables for dinner. I have done manual labor and been the recipient of someone else’s. I have ridden in cars, buses, planes, boats, rickshaws (auto and cycle) and have crossed streets effortlessly looking both directions.

I thought that China was going to be a culture shock for me, but despite communication, I found it to be clean and organized. Nothing fazed me except the contrasting beauty of the Hong Kong Skyscrapers rising out of the lush green mountains; but that is beside the point. The real point is that I should be experiencing some type of culture shock when traveling but I have not yet. I wake up each morning and before opening my eyes ask myself, “Where am I?” The answer then tells my what my next move should be and what role I should be playing.

For those of you who don’t know yet, my office is closed and where I previously found myself debating whether to extend my stay or not, I have found myself with no choice; having the decision made for me. You are going home. Home…I thought that I was home. I look around my room and I see all of my stuff; my bed, my music, my pictures and the books that I have surrounded myself with. My phone is ringing with friends wondering when I am going to come home. Home…home is where the heart is. When I was home for a wedding I was surrounded by all of my best friends, my family, my boyfriend, my comfort. Home…isn’t that where I grew up and with those that I love. Then why did I feel like my other home was calling me?

Over the past week I have been traveling with a mix of American and Indian students. I was straddling a line of cultures. Two that I know very well but even then I found myself learning about both of them as if they were new. I will continually learn about the Indian culture, just as I now analyze the American culture through a new lense. “Don’t forget that you are American too.” I was told on tour when giving feedback about wardrobe selection.

What does this all mean for me? I find myself questioning this more frequently as my deadline approaches. Is Delhi my home? Or is it just a place that I stayed for a year. When I settle in with my friends and family in Boston will the memories and yearning for the people, the crowds and the intense heat fade? I sure do hope so, because right now I find myself scared of a world without India and I hope that home becomes wherever I find myself next.

Mama for a Week

2010-06-28T23:07:00.000+05:30

What a odd feeling. I am sitting on my bed in Shanghai on the Global Citizens tour and I am in the strangest mood. Over the last 48 hours I have picked up 10 Indian students from all across the country led an orientation in Delhi and then maneuvered their naturally slow walking timeline disregarding bodies through the airport multiple times to end up here.

I had 17 year olds – seniors in high school calling me Quinnen Ma’am, and Ms Quinnen. They were asking my permission and trusting my judgment. It is so easy to feel young when I am constantly surrounded by people your my age, but when I look at these almost adults turning to me for guidance and support a protective and motherly instinct came over me and I just felt old.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not insinuating that I am decrepit despite my many cracking bones, bad knees and my desire to sit in a rocking chair in front of a fire with a lap blanket knitting. But there has to come a day when some situation or event makes you stop, look around and really see yourself. This was it for me.

As eye opening as it was, it was also a great feeling. My kids told me on multiple occasions that they noticed and really appreciated how caring and concerned I was for each of them. One of the kids said in his closing presentation that he felt like the group was his family and we the chaperones were his parents. Based on the feedback given from these students, I know that I am going to be a great mom and I am excited for when my kids become teens and I get a chance to wrangle them in. I will know when to use trust and encourage vs. room checks and guilt. Bring on the 16 year olds; babies are boring! :)

You know it is hot when:

2010-06-05T22:46:00.002+05:30

The cold tap scalds you.
Your laundry goes from drenched to dry in one hour – line dry.
The sweat that drips down your body dries before it can reach the ground
The metal hangers in the closet are hot.
The wind is so hot that it is better to stay still.
If you have one drink you wake up the next morning with the worst headache
You find yourself praising the weather gods when it is only 95 degrees.

It is just the beginning…next comes the monsoon, the humidity and the mosquitoes.

Delhi is a hard place to live weather-wise: The winters are too cold. The summers too hot and the monsoon is too humid. When are the good months? October – December. It is like Boston but in reverse.

This is Going to Take a Little Money

2010-06-04T12:07:00.000+05:30

I spent the entire day at the French Embassy today. After a day like today I am proud to say that I work with people who are great problem solvers while remaining cool, collected and composed under pressure.

If I haven’t mentioned before Visas are hell for any Indian. It is easier if they have traveled a lot previously, but even if they have been abroad and returned there is no proof that they will return from this new location. They have to prove that they don’t have relatives in the area of visiting, and if they are not allowed to see them on tour unless it is supervised. They have to provide their bank and tax records for the last three years proving that they are not new money and will not try to buy their way out and that they are dutifully invested into their hometown in India.

To set the stage, we have been planning an incredibly complicated tour for a management group that has schools all over the country. Our main contact was sending students from 9 different schools and only 1-6 sutdents per school. Based on our contracts and rules there has to be an adult to accompany each group. This means that for every gateway that a school is flying out of there needs to be one adult to take then. Doesn’t seem like a difficult concept…

Well the Management decided to select a principal from Delhi to lead the students from Bombay, Why, that’s a great question. Hierarchy, favoritism…whatever you want to call it.

So anyway, there was now the teacher and 2 students living near Delhi, applying in Delhi, but flying out with the larger group from Bombay. Due to the strict rules of the embassy and trying to lower our risk of rejection we followed the governments suggestion and filed for the large group first. We were cutting it close with our timelines, but based on past experience it only takes 5-6 working days and we were applying with 8. We would get the visas back with enough time to spare. So we thought.

Mohit brought the applications to the Delhi VFS processing. Normally one of his friends is there and he takes the information and makes sure that it get processed on time. Today, the friend was not there, so he gave it to the recommended person. Mohit called the VFS later that day to ensure the applications were processed. All set. Great. So he called back a few days later to get the receipt to pick up the Passports. Turns out that the applications didn’t get processed until the next day because Mohit didn’t stand over his shoulder.

One day lost. We are now down to 7 working days for processing.

Wednesday I get pulled into the situation…you see Quinnen, there was going to be enough time, but there was a one-day delay and tomorrow is a French holiday…so no one is working. That means that we have exactly 6 working days for the processing. The Visas should be done by tomorrow, but we cannot risk it. If this teacher did not get the visa she would not be able to travel and the 9 students from Bombay would have to cancel, and then without this group there were not enough students to run the tour without taking major loss of money. It was a disaster.

“Quinnen, we need you to go to the French Embassy and get the Visas tomorrow. You can go first thing in the morning. They will let you in because you are an American. We are not allowed to go in at all unless we bribe them because we are Indian.”

I should have known right then and there that this was going to be an adventurous day.

8 am: early morning pick up from my house

9 am: meet Amisha at the French Embassy and get in line

9:30 am: signs of life emerge from inside. There were a lot of conversations in Hindi, people were being rejected left and right. Then I finally got to the door. I spoke fast, confidently, but respectfully, flashed my passport.

9:45 am: I was in the door of the waiting room. They weren’t even going to let Amisha in there until I argued and told them that she had to be able to come and sit down.

10:00 am: Communication is cut, my cell phone is left with the guards as I enter the belly of the beast.

I sat down and felt good that I made it this far. I was going over my gallant fight repeatedly in my head. Watching as this one woman determine people’s fate one after the next. No, Yes, No, No, No, Yes…I wasn’t nervous until I started to look around and see the jittery legs of everyone else.

11:30 am: I am finally called to the counter. I go with the firm but non-threatening approach. I am anxious, but I took a deep breath, “Hi, I am Quinnen from EF Educational Tours. How are you?” Smile. A return smile…great first step. I told her the scenario, handed her the receipt, and passport copies.

“That’s strange, I don’t even see them in our system. Please sit.” Shit! My heart started fluttering again. What was I going to do…everyone was relying on me to make magic happen.

11:50 am: I go back up to the counter. She found the forms. She said that they would be processed by the end of the day. “Really! Thank you so much. Can I come back here and get them from you later?” “No, you will have to go to the VFS. We will send them there.” “Okay, thank you!”

12:00 pm: I was so excited and couldn’t wait to get back out to Amisha and tell her the great news. She tells me that what I didn’t know is that the guard was rejected 3 people in front of me for the same reason, but she said that I spoke so quickly so he could barely understand and then flashed my passport and that is what got us in the door.

1:00 pm: I am back at the office and we are all celebrating…I still didn’t trust it. I told everyone to hold the applause until we had the passports in hands.

3:00 pm: Mohit leaves to the VFS to get there by 4:00 for pick-up

4:15pm: I get pulled into the side office by Amisha who said that Mohit told her that the Visas were never sent. “It’s okay,” I said as calmly as I could. “I will go right now, back to the embassy and get them. She gave me her word that they would be completed today.”

4:30 pm: I quietly slipped out of the office to not make a scene, and drove to the French embassy. I met Mohit there. Again slightly panicked but still with dire hope as we waiting in the line with all of the people who had the one piece of paper that we lacked, stating they could enter.

I get to the front. The same guard as the morning who was smiling with me earlier, denies my access now. Before I can even rebuttal, Mohit is there talking, explaining, pushing, all in Hindi. “He’s got this” I thought. NO. We are still not allowed to go in. We pulled off to the side. “Mohit, if I can just get in there I can get the passports. I really think that they are inside. What now?” “Just stand here for a second.”

The guard comes to the door again. We get rejected again. We pull off to the side once again. He looks at me, “this is going to take a little bit of money.” Just stay here. He disappears around the back to the rear door. He comes back 5 minutes later and said, now see. The guard will come to the door and call you in.

Sure enough, he played it off as nothing happened. “You.” He said pointing to me, they want to see you. I look at Mohit with a huge smile. “It’s all up to you now.” He said…great. Here we go.

I went back into the waiting room where there are about 30 Indians ready allow the same woman to call their fate once again. I sat down amongst them. As they left one by one, I was glad. That meant that there would be less people around when I had to try and work the system. Usually the smaller the audience the better chance you have of getting your way.

As soon as the Visa office walked out, she made eye contact with me and I could tell that she was surprised to see me.

I finally got tot the counter. First question, “Why are you here? I told you to go to the VFS.” “I know, I just came from the VFS and the Passports are not there like you said that they would be this morning.” “Take a seat I will check.”

Heart attack. She goes to check.

I get called back up to the desk. “You are right, they were never sent. I will process them here today.”

Excitement, heart jumping out of my body. I want to call Mohit, but I still don’t trust it until I have them in my hand.

More people go up to the counter and she tells them that actually things cannot be processed in time. Could this happen to me? Again another panic. I am starting to worry of the affect that this is going to have on my racing heart and blood pressure.

5:30 pm: I go up to the counter. I get the three Visas!

5:35 pm: I run out to Mohit and we are jumping like little school kids.

5:40 pm: We pay the guard and thank him. Discretely…

5:45 pm: Mohit calls the office, I call Satya. We make sure that the principal’s driver is still waiting at the office to take her passport. The other two would be shipped through cargo that night and make it to the children in time for their morning flights.

5:50 pm: We are in the car laughing uncontrollably so completely in disbelief that it all worked out.

6:00 pm: We return to the office where everyone has chips and beer waiting for us. This day made me lose hair and damaged my heart, it was exhilarating but I would never want to repeat it again.

Thank Goodness for Mohit and Amisha!

Who needs Delhi when I could stay in Meerut

2010-06-03T22:20:00.003+05:30

What is in Meerut you ask? A Delhi Public School.

Now that the office is closing down and there is limited staff in the office we have all been helping out trying to finish up whatever work is left. I volunteered to drive 2 hours out of Delhi to conduct a pre-departure meeting at Delhi Public School Meerut.

Although Satya wanted me to have another Indian along, I knew that I could handle it solo. I was excited. I loved talking in front of people; especially the challenge of making a group of Indian parents calm and secure about allowing their kids to travel with EF.

After the meeting I wait for the principal to have some time for me. They are usually extremely busy and so high up on the social ladder that they make you wait until they are ready for you. Well the wait wasn't too long. I went into have and extra expectation setting meeting with her since she was leading the tour. I went through all of the tough/sometimes disappointing disclaimers like if the weather delays your flight and you miss days of tour EF is not responsible... After all of that was over I then transitioned into the more difficult conversation.

"Ma'am, out of respect for you and your school, I wanted to let you know that our board of directors has recently made the decsion to no longer produce Educational Tours our of our Delhi office past June 30th. But please do not worry because EF still has hundreds of thousands of children traveling all across the world and you especially should have no concern because you are going to the US and it is our domestic company in Boston who makes the arrangements just the same as all the American children traveling in the US. But in the meantime, to avoid making the the parents nervous please keep this information between you me and the school. Any questions or concerns?"

"Oh, that is too bad. What are you going to do?"

"Well, I don't know, probably head back to the US and work out of the Boston office. It is sad though because I was looking forward to staying in India a little longer."

"Oh, you were, well I wanted to let you know that the parents and the kids were all just telling me that they were so impressed with you and I saw how you connected with them. You know I am always on the lookout for good people and you could teach our English classes."

"My mom is an English teacher and I know if she heard that she would love that."

"How old are you?"

"27"

Nodding her head pleased, "Great, we need people your age who are creative and young and can bring in fresh ideas to the school. You know that I am fully in charge of making sure that we are staying at the forefront of education and provide that thing that the other schools cannot. We pay really well here..."

This is where I started to get really nervous and was looking for an out...no more polite, complimentary Quinnen...and then the tea and biscuits entered the room. Trapped!

"...and of course all salary is negotiable. I am willing to pay for good people. You could live here in the hostels. And, you know my son just moved out and I commute from Delhi every day. We have extra space."

"I would love to stay in India and all of this sounds so great," I chug my tea and eat a biscuit to not be rude, "but my family really wants me to come home and I am looking forward to going back to Boston. I know my friend Christine is looking for places to work. She is Canadian. Do you have a card? I could get in touch with her for you."

"Yeah, but seriously all you have to do is just send me an email and we can get this whole discussion going."

"Yeah I will def. be in touch but first let's make sure that you are all set up to have an amazing tour. I really apprectiate you taking the time out of your day to meet with me after the meeting, but I have already taken up so much of your time and I don't want to continue to keep you from all of your other important matters, so I should head out. It was a pleasure talking to you."

"Yes, please do be in touch and it was nice meeting you."

"Have a great time in the US."

And I was out the door, in my car and safe...I didn't think that I was going to be able to leave the office without a new job contract in hand. These Indian principals sure do know how to control a room and get what they want in a very nice, polite, strong way so that you feel rude disagreeing. She was an extremely nice principal, but I wondered how much that would have changed once my signature was on a paper and I was hers. I just couldn't see myself living in Meerut.

The Mango Incident

2010-06-03T22:17:00.001+05:30

Coming back from a school meeting in Meerut my driver pointed out that we were driving past the Mango Market. I asked him to stop so I could buy a few. There were so many different types and I didn’t know which ones were the best. (side note: Mangoes are India’s national fruit). Luckily my driver RK was there to help. He picked out four ripe ones planning on giving at least one to RK to take home to his family. We get back in the car and he looks back to reverse and in his broken English started saying, “Man Dead.”

Man dead, what I thought?

“Man dead, big accident, man dead.”

I looked back and there was a bus parked in the middle of the road with a motorbike crashed into the back of it. The driver was hanging limp body off the bike backwards as people ran over to him to help escort him away from the site of the crash.

“Man dead, man dead.” RK kept saying…

“Okay, I get it!”

Part of me started feeling really guilty. Was it my presence directly across the street with my blond hair and bright yellow shirt that caused him, like so many others to stare and take his eyes off the road? Am I at fault of am I just being hedonistic? I contemplated this as I tried to shrink away from the self-blame and stop the man dead chanting.

It's Mango Season

2010-06-03T21:20:00.000+05:30

A fleshy fruit, eaten ripe or used green for pickles etc., of the tree Mangifera indica, the mango is one of the most important and widely cultivated fruits of the tropical world. Its juicy fruit is a rich source of Vitamins A, C and D. In India there are over 100 varieties of mangoes, in different sizes, shapes and colours. Mangoes have been cultivated in India from time immemorial. The poet Kalidasa sang its praises. Alexander savoured its taste, as did the Chinese pilgrim Hieun Tsang. Mughal emperor Akbar planted 100,000 mango trees in Darbhanga, Bihar at a place now known as Lakhi Bagh.

http://india.gov.in/knowindia/national_fruit.php

I am Rani

2010-05-31T13:26:00.002+05:30

For one week in the village of Jarang I was known as Rani translated from Nepali to Queen.

The treacherous road on the way to the village. Currently stuck and repairing.

Carie, Quinnen and Aileen at our Welcome ceremony

The Village people gathered to meet the new Volunteers

My Aamaa dressed ready for a celebration

The typical scene for dinner minus the light from my flash

The build site with the Himalayas in the background

the morning hello on the way to the site.

Filling water jugs for her house. The basket attached to a strap that is rested on the head for carrying

The neighboring village with the Himalayas

Namastay!

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=429128&id=721045331&l=ff68a59efd

The magic is in the simplicity

2010-05-31T13:15:00.001+05:30

We are in an age where we are bombarded with cell phones, calls, SMS, iPods, billboards, movies, TV, friends – distractions. Everything is posted and you get instantaneous responses and satisfaction. I am well involved in the craze and very much enjoy it. The first thing that I do when I get home from a night out is to connect on Facebook. I blog, I follow tweets, I dig, stumble, I am linked in. It is all great, but it is hard to detach. It is hard to pull yourself away from the updates and the notifications.

I think that is why my time spent in the rural village a Jarang a 5 hour jeep ride/hike from the nearest town Gorka was so impactful and the memories, smiles, sweat, hugs, and tears will stay with me for a long time to come.

It is impossible to summarize my time there, and journaling the details of each day won’t do it justice, so I am choosing to focus on the part that I loved the most; the simplicity of the village life. The word of choice is a general overstatement, but so not confuse it with easy or boring because neither of these word come nearly close to describing the feel.

I lived with two other Volunteers, Ramos (Ryan Larkin) and Suryia (Nepali site supervisor) and with my Aamaa (mom) and Buwaa (dad). Our house was two levels. One room that served as the living room/kitchen, plain, red, simple, smooth. We took our shoes off on the covered porch before entering the house. Inside there was wooden ladder/staircase that lead to the bedrooms. The first big one was for our host parents. Then there was another open porch above the lower one where our beds were. Low ceilings where I bumped my head each night, exposed rusty nails and rafters full of spiders. I quickly unrolled my sleeping bad on my wood planked straw mattress and set up my mosquito net more for protection from the bigger guys.

After a long day at the site hauling rocks, stone, and twisting wires for rebar we would retreat through the cornfield maze down the steep slope that led to our compound of three houses. We would sit outside until our Aamaa brought us chia (tea) and an unknown snack. The village kids who were also out of school would show up at their favorite volunteers’ house. Our favorites would sit with us smiling and watching us in amusement. They would speak basic English and encourage our Nepali language trials as the sun went slowly down.

When mustered enough energy to make the move I would run upstairs change out of my work pants and sports bra and put on my hot pink cotton moo-moo that I was required to wear while I showed. I would grab my soap and headlamp, drape my towel over my shoulders and being scared of the dark, I would wait for another volunteer to head on the path down to the spicket. Since it had been raining and there was spare water we were allowed to shower daily. We used the same water tap that the locals filled their cooking and drinking basins with. We ducked and crouched as the ice cold water ran over our bodies rinsing off the grime that we would be replacing the next day. When I finished, I would look down only to see my “clean body” covered in the bubblegum streaks and stains of my vegetable dye gown.

We ate dinner every night sitting cross-legged on straw mats placed on the floor facing our Aamaa with the wood-burnt fire to our right. As soon as we got situated we would remove our headlamps and allow our eyes to adjust. The light from the flames flickered just bright enough to reflect the red tint of the mud walls and our glowing contented smiles. The smoke that provided for us burned and stung my eyes and left my clothes drifting with the familiar sent of NH wilderness in the summers.

My Aamaa chatted away to us in Nepali smiling and not caring that we did not understand. We screamed Pugio! Enough! And Alikieti! Just a little! While we held our plates guarded close to our bodies. It did not matter, we were strong builders, there was extra food, and it is a grave taboo to waste what they have been able to provide. Two and a half heaping servings of Dahl Bhaat (Rice and Lentils) and a Vegetable Curry later Ryan was crying from the spice and I was no longer to hold the hunched position that I started in. We ate this twice a day. It was basic, it was simple, it was delicious.

After dinner Ryan, Suryia and I would run to open porch of our neighbor’s house though the cornfields. We would hang out for an hour or so relaxing in the cool air. People around me would discuss the day, the plan for tomorrow, and I would enjoying quiet company as I desperately tried to capture the emotions and calm that I was experiencing.

Each night Aamaa would wait until we could not fit another kernal of rice in our bodies before serving herself. She would eat alone then clean, then feeling abandoned would come to tell us it was time to close up for the night. We would take turns using the communal squat toilet, stand on the edge of the front yard brushing our teeth and spitting onto the ground. For whatever reason knowing that the wad of toothpaste would seep into the ground and be a dry remberance in the morning made me feel more connected to the land.

Each night around 9:30 I would scramble through the dark, un-tuck my net, crawl into bed and pass out immediately. My back loved the hard mat and I slept soundly until 4:30 am when the sun would start to rise over the Himalayas and the roosters would start to crow. My Aamaa would wake up immediately and start the rounds of feeding the goats and preparing the fire. We would wake around 6:00, dress, and head to the porch for our morning tea. Aamaa would be full of smiles handing me the scalding metal cup that I would graciously take cautiously with hands on the rim. We would again sit in silence as we awoke inside and prepared ourselves for the work ahead. With a trip to the squat, more toothpaste in the dirt we hugged Aamaa and like dutiful ants we followed each other through the maze to the build site.

From there the sun would rise, the enchanting snow capped mountains that would captivate our mornings would disappear as the clouds rolled in from the distance. The heat would rise and our exhaustion grew. We were physically tired but mentally awakened. We took refuge in the gracious servitude of the Aamaas and the smiles and thoughtfulness of the men and children.

I will always be grateful for dancing with the village ladies to the drum-beat music, chatting with the school children as the sun sets, watching as the young boys hopped on one foot knocking into each other over for amusement, knowing that they sacrificed one of their goats so we could feast. These are the simple things that we enjoy, appreciate, and so often overlook when we are distracted, and I think that for the rest of my life when I look at my photos, read my journal entries I am going to be able to put myself right back into that place of simple pleasure and smile knowing that the village kids who found their way into my heart in such a short amount of time are safe in thier new school.

A few from Dharamsala

2010-05-02T15:07:00.005+05:30

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=415518&id=721045331&l=68bb7ddede

I am being safe

2010-05-02T12:54:00.002+05:30

I am not sure who follows what news, but just in case you get wind of the terror alerts in New Delhi, please know that I am being safe. A lot of the markets listed below are the ones that I go to eat at, but I am sacrificing movies and all social non-house party outings as to avoid the markets and malls for the next two weeks at least. I hope that they delay the release of the movies that I want to see :) Just trying to keep it light here folks...

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2010/05/01/us-canada-australia-warn-_n_559710.html

http://newdelhi.usembassy.gov/service/india-travel-and-security-info/warden-messages.html

Important Security Update

May 1, 2010

This Warden Message provides updated information related to the April 21, 2010 Warden Message and additional information related to the Travel Alert issued for India on April 16, 2010.

There are increased indications that terrorists are planning imminent attacks in New Delhi. Terrorists have targeted places in the past where U.S. citizens or Westerners are known to congregate or visit. Markets, such as those located in Chandni Chowk, Connaught Place, Greater Kailash, Karol Bagh, Mehrauli, and Sarojini Nagar, can be especially attractive targets for terrorist groups. If you are in an area where unattended packages are spotted, you should immediately exit the area and report the packages to authorities.

Americans traveling or residing in India are strongly encouraged to maintain a high level of vigilance, remain aware of their surroundings, monitor local news reports, and take appropriate steps to bolster their personal security.

Fun fact: Addresses in India

2010-04-29T10:15:00.000+05:30

Ha ha ha ha!

I don't know why this was the topic, but it came up on my company's blog and it made me smile. Hope you enjoy!

Fun fact: Addresses in India

Dharamsala

2010-04-25T20:22:00.003+05:30

Dharamsala, or McLeodGanj (the small town north) is also known as "Little Tibet." the Dali Lama has been in Exile for 50 years this year and continues to work as the President of Tibet in Exile. I have wanted to go and hang out with the Monks since the first week that I came to India.

I had been home from the US not even one week. I was sitting at work desperately trying to catch up when I received a phone call from my roommate - Saabira,

"hey, I am at the bus station and I want to go to Dharamsala this weekend do you want to come? I am going to buy tickets..."

I thought for two seconds and then replied, "yeah buy me one."

"are you sure? Is this a confirmation? I am going to buy them?"

"Yes, do it! I am in."

So she bought two tickets there and was told that you can only get the return tickets at the station when you get in. No problem...that is if you remember to get them when you arrive which of course we did not. But I digress...

So we leave to the bus station directly from work and the say the least, bus and train stations are not that nice, or friendly, clean, or well designed. There are usually no signs, and like most non-tourist places, no English. The only way that you find where you are going is by stopping and asking 10 thousand times. Every couple of feet to make sure that the last person was really telling you the truth. Luckily Saabs speaks Hindi and I could manage if she was not there.

We got on the bus, popped sleeping pills, and put in our ear plugs as we trying to drown out the screeching wailing old school Bollywood movie on the TV. Done, asleep, and at our destination.

Of course last minute plans mean no hotel or place to stay, so we started walking. Up STEEP, STEEP hills towards the shared Taxi stands. Okay I thought. Shared taxis...1/2 hour ride for 10 rupees. Great cost, but let's see what you have to sacrifice. This old, white, Jeep pulls up and 5 of us pile in. Okay, not so bad. Then we stop along the way and the numbers grow from 5 to 7 to 9 to 10 to 11. Really when the last person got in I thought it was impossible. Random people had my bags on their laps without complaint. Have you ever been so close to a stranger that you could literaly feel their hip bones on yours? Well now I have, but it was Dharamsala, the home of hippies, so we were relaxed and just went with it.

One of our friends used to live in McLeodGanj and recommended that we stay at the Monastery where he used to live. He said that when we get there to refer to him with his Indian name...which of course we forgot, but no harm done.

To find this place we had to go off the backside of the main town and walk down and down about 200 steep steps through construction and leaky sewage and then you reached the calm little reserve called Tse-Chok Ling Monastery. It was perfectly situated on the edge of a gorge looking into the valley. It was so peaceful and relaxing. Saabira would wake up at different times and read or write and then go up the the kitchen and eat Tibetian bread and coffee. When I entered there was this older man sitting at the table. He asked me to sit with him.

We started talking and I learned that he was the founder of the Monestery. We talked about it for a while and then the natural question of, "Where are you from?" came about. "The US." "Oh, I have been there! I have been to New York, San Francisco, LA, and Eeetha." "Where was the last place, I don't know if I am familiar." "Eeethica." He said it a couple of times before I could figure that through his accent he was saying "ITHACA!" My love and passion. I couldn't contain it any more. I told him that I went to school there, and that I used to go and pray with the monks when they had just a little red house down town and now there is this huge Monastery and when the Dalai Lama came to Ithaca I tried and tried to get tickets to hear him speak but all three venues were sold out. He was smiling and laughing at my excitement. He said that he has not been there to see the new place, but his friend is running it and he hopes to go again some day.

Saabs and I were determined to eat authentic Tibetan food...but what is that you ask? Good question, we didn't know. We walked around until we found one of the lonely planet recommended spots and then we asked our Waiter. He ended up talking to us for the whole time we were eating and curious about what the night life in this small, yoga and holistic health haven was all about we met up with him and a friend for a drink later that night.

There were language barriers all over the place. He and I couldn't really understand each other and so everything had to be filtered through Saabira who was not in a super social mood that weekend. It caused for interesting conversation. Turns out that Jampul has been living in Dharamsala in exile for 4 years now. He was telling us about the school that takes in any people from exile, provides free education and then they go on their way. He said that is was great and he was happy, but his grandparents are getting old and he hasn't seen them in years and he doesn't know if he will ever be able to again since he cannot go home. What a strange concept, that people are separated from family and friends and since they had to run away illegally, they don't have the option to be with those they love when they want to.

We were both exhausted after a long overnight bus so we decided to head back early. Upon Saabira asking what "we" should do tomorrow meaning me and her, Jampul was like, "Oh, ah, well I have to work tomorrow, but I guess I could show you around in the morning." Language barrier turned in our favor. We planned to meet him at 10am and walked flashlights in hand down the 200 steps to our monastery.

At 10am Indian time we rolled up to the bus stop, hopped on a local bus and went down to a town called Lhasa where there was a children's hostel where the kids learned Tibetian handiwork. It again was so relaxing. We stayed there for a while and then walked up the road a way to the nunnery. It was so great to see them all laughing and playing with one another. Teaching the young kids and just living a simple peaceful life. We proceeded onto Funky Town where there was a restuarant and a pool that all the monks came to and went swimming at. What a funny thing to see these Monks

one second in their robes and the next in their little tiny bathing suits.

We continued walking and Jampul wanted to show us his school where any refugee is given a free education. He said that he walked the path that we were going every week between the towns. It took us like 2 hours. We were really enjoying it, but in the heat and sun we were complaining. He looked at us and said that when he escaped from Tibet he walked for 26 days straight. That put both of us into our places immediately.

Overall the trip was so refreshing and just what I needed. You can only be in Delhi for so long before you get annoyed with the heat, honking, dust and men-centric atmosphere. We asked Jampul what the white scarf in our room was at the Monastery. He said that it was an offering to say welcome, or good-bye we hope you come again.

"It is a part of Tibetan way of life from birth to death and between. It is also used as a sign of recognition of one’s love or respect for another. The offering of Khata is probably one of the most well known customs of Tibetan culture. Something that one could call a Tibetan bouquet, that is very reusable and one specific Khata may travel the world over."

On our last day in Dharmsala, we went to the restaurant where Jampul worked. He gave us a huge hug and wrapped the both of us in a silky white scarf.

Complete Lack of Energy

2010-04-25T19:48:00.003+05:30

I haven't written anything in a long time for two distinct reasons... 1. I took on a new position at work that has me going at 150% leaving me absolutely void of all creative thought, reflection for desire to sit in front of a computer when not necessary and 2. It is hot. Really, really excruciatingly hot.

Let's look at the heat first. Chad warned me before I came here that I would just get really sick of the heat. I waived it off thinking, "Yeah it is going to be hot, but come on, it has got to be better than 8 months of winter!" Well, I think that I still agree with that statement, but not as strongly as I thought I would. The air is dry, my AC is still broken, I don't sleep soundly, and I wake up drenched in sweat every morning. Isn't that attractive.

It is only April, and it has been well over 110 degrees every day. It takes all the will power that I have to even crawl downstairs let alone venture outside. I promised my roommates that I would do brunch this morning. I was excited for pancakes too after a long time without, but we didn't have any fruit. And the only way to get it was to walk 20 minutes to the nearest market and then lug it all home. So determined for some Banana pancakes, my roommate and I challenged the morning heat and left our house. I think that we walked in silence for the first 10 minutes while we concentrated on not fainting :) The fresh Mangos, Pineapple, and Mellon were all worth it in the end and brunch was fab.

Reason #2 for not writing in a long time: Work.

Don't worry, I am not going to be bashing my company or complaining. Quite on the contrary. I am doing it to myself. I am now the Director of Production for ETIN and what that means is I am a giant puzzle-putter-together-er. What does that exactly mean, well to be specific I take whatever my sales team sells, find groups who want similar destinations and times match them together, figure out the Visa logistics, coordinate with the Flight team, and then try and fit the super late planning Indian mindset into the super strict German/French/Swedish timelines. It is not the easiest thing to do, and with all travel there are so many little minute details that can go wrong, so everything needs to be triple checked. I am learning a lot as I go, but it involves new programs that I have never worked with on top of learning about Indian Visas and flight routings.

On top of that I have taken on another project that I started when I first moved here. It is the Global Citizen Scholarship Program. I love it. Basically Kara in the US and I in India with the help of many, have orchestrated nationwide essay competitions in both India and the US to find bright talented students who want to explore education at a global level. We each selected 10 winners and we are going to be traveling with them this summer to China. After a ton of prep we have finally selected our winners and now we are working on collecting documents and talking to parents.

If you haven't watched it before you should check out the Documentary 2 Million Minutes. It explores the lives of 2 Indian, 2 American, and 2 Chinese students and what they do with their 2MM (the time in 4 years that they have in high school to prepare themselves for their future). This is the theme of our tour and I can't wait for all three cultures to interact.

I love having the connecting to the kids and the customers again. I find it so rewarding to interact with them after being behind the scenes for so long. Since there are no teachers going, Elizabeth LeLaurin and I are going to be the group leaders. I want to make sure that I am as prepared as possible so I have been reading books about China, Global Leadership and Cross -Cultural Communication.

One of the things that I found so interesting and I am not sure how the American students are going to react is that people don't see us as a lasting world power. I think that in America, myself included I came here thinking that everyone knows about culture in the US because of the movies and our world status and our Presidents...and that they looked at us as this super power that has it all, and that people wanted to be like us. I know that doesn't sound open minded, but I was a little shocked to read the essays of these students who think that the US is on its way out because of it's lazy lifestyle and China is the future. They overall feel is that Americans have the life right now, but we take for granted the opportunities presented to us and we in the long run will not be the most well educated.

Who knows how it is all going to shake out, but these kids that I am going on tour with are going to be the future of our world, so hopefully this experience is going to create some type of lasting impression.

I can't wait for the tour, but I also can't wait for it to be over so I can relax a little more and have a balanced life once again. For anyone out there who has not heard back from me in a while. I am sorry. I am still thinking of you and thanks for the amazing birthday wishes!

Home not even for one weekend

2010-03-31T20:55:00.004+05:30

and I am escaping the heat and heading to the mountains. Dharamsala here I come!

Saabira, my roomie got into Grad School at NYU and she is going to be leaving me in May to head home to Bangalore before she moves to the States. Because of this we are finally holding each other accountable for all of the trips that we said that we were going to take, but never got around to. Congrats Saabs, and bring on the weekend trips!

It wasn't as Traumatic as I thought...

2010-03-31T20:16:00.002+05:30

When my Taxi driver neared closer to the Delhi International Airport my heart started racing..."what if I have picked up some strange habit that I don't even realize, and all the kids at school make fun of me" I starting thinking... It had been seven months since I had been home, and I have been away for almost that long while I was in Australia, but AU and India are two different planets. The worst that can happen in Aussie world is that you call everyone 'Mate' become obsessed with Rugby, Aussie Rules and you become a master griller on the barbie. Can't say I would complain about that.

In India my non-verbal communication has completely altered. I have totally picked up the head bobble, confusing the heck out of people that I talk to, if I am not aware. My personal space bubble has become limited, I have been known to bump into people, not think it is strange and not apologize. I push through a crowd, I don't smile at strangers and I avoid eye contact when not communicating...unless I am starting...yeah, I do that now too. It is a very easy one to pick up. Everyone just watches everyone else. I knew that if I brought these things home to the US they would not be received well and I may offend strangers and my good friends alike.

As soon as I got home the questions were a firing away and often times people asked me the one question that I asked myself constantly...is it strange to be home...and the answer was simple. No. It was nice. It was pleasant, quiet, relaxing and I really enjoyed seeing everyone. I think that India and the US are on such completely different sides of the spectrum in almost every way, that I was able to compartmentalize the two worlds and have a Quinnen in each of them. From my limited perspective, friends, you can disagree, but I felt like I fit right back into things with ease.

Little things that I noticed and thought were funny:

I couldn't wait to eat a normal American breakfast, with eggs, french toast, hash browns, bacon, and when I did, I couldn't stop.
A girl smiled at me and I panicked, until I realized that the proper thing to do was not just stare and walk by, but smile back. I started thinking that Westerns smile a lot.
When someone's coffee lid fell on the ground I was shocked that she picked it up.
I had to remember to put my seatbelt on. I am used to sitting in the back and cars not having them.
I was excited to wear a dress that showed my knees.
I was appalled at what the young girls were wearing and constantly shocked by how short skirts were and how low women shirts were.
I found myself putting pepper on EVERYTHING and I couldn't wait to eat Indian food.
I saw a man standing against a wall with his back to me and I assumed he was peeing in public.

Overall I had an amazing time at the wedding, loved catching up with friends, hanging with my fam, eating delicious food for restaurant week and I have all of you to thank for that! I can't wait to see you again in June.

"Welcome Home" said India

2010-03-29T19:54:00.001+05:30

sarcastically as it smacked me in the face with 100 degree weather and laughed.

Thanks for Sharing Todd!

2010-03-08T23:43:00.001+05:30

http://www.boston.com/bigpicture/2010/03/holi_2010.html

Thanks for sharing Todd!

Playing Holi

2010-03-08T22:50:00.007+05:30

Whenever your day consists of:

Squirt Guns filled with bright staining color
Water Balloon ambushes by strangers
Watching people roll up their car windows as they approach you running down the streets towards them
Dumping bags of colors on little children
Using a rickshaw as a get-away/attack vehicle
Riding in an open back truck filled with people and extra ammo
Parties with free food, beer, buckets of water, and color
Farm houses with DJs and crazy colored people
Getting stuck at said farm house because your ride got pushed into a purple pool with his keys.

You know you are in for an amazing time!

I have been waiting to celebrate this day since I first heard about it from Chad a few years back and needless to say, I was not let down. The day started the night before where I bought a new outfit just to be destroyed the next day. Basically I had been told, more cautioned to be careful when walking outside because if you look clean - you will be attacked, you will be hit. You will be colored and you will be soaked. That is just the way it is. I took those words carefully and made sure to be the aggressor and douse those around me before I could get colored (in a non-violent country I think I was a hit...).

When my alarm went off at 7:00 am. I woke up, dressed, started to think about how I was going to brave the outdoors and get to the Saket Mall where Annabelle's hotel was. Luckily Satya called me and offered to have his taxi pick me up. I ran out the door and straight into the back seat locking eyes with three young men on my road who I could tell were upset that they missed a great chance to hit an unsuspecting target.

We drove away surprised that the rukus had not yet started, ate breakfast and then filled the squirt guns with bright pink and purple colors. We ran the streets sprinting and squirting each other as the guards watched and ran away from us. Cars would roll up their windows as they passed us and we chased a few strangers around the corners. Realizing that nothing was happening in our area we hailed a rickshaw and took the fun on the road.

We slowly approached three hooligans on the left and we knew that we were in for trouble. I started to pump the pressure guage on my gun to prepare for the drive-by when the driver stopped in front of them. We all paused momentarily when the kids started launching water balloons at us. "Challo! Challo!" we screamed and the driver took off. He totally betrayed us, but we were all laughing and having fun along the way. We got dropped at the office where we reloaded and attacked a few more people around as I waited for my ride to come.

Christine pulls up with her friend Abhishek in his car fully lined with sheets, a gun and a bucket of balloons in the back...seriously seasoned veteran. Along the way to his friend's house he preps us that this guy is a huge lover of Holi and by the time that we leave the house you won't be able to see any of our skin. I though he was joking...

3 buckets of water over the head, 25 people at the house, and tons of sented green and orange powder in my mouth - later, the truck arrived. You know the ones that I am talking about...the big U-haul minus the sides and just an open exposed frame for you to hold on to. Highly illegal in the states, but in the land of crazy traffic and no rules we all piled in handing each other super soakers and buckets of balloons.

Where were we going? Did it even matter, it's not the destination that counts. We launched our supplies at everyone and anything that passed us: open windows of cars, people on motorbikes, and of course the HOLI Cows!

When the truck stopped we hopped out at someone's house. I watched as people were being checked off the guest list and I started to get nervous that I wasn't going to make it in being a tag-a-long and all. I heard someone yell, "we're from the truck!" The doors opened and I was in an oaisis of Holi. It was someone's backyard transformed into a playing field. There was an open bar on one side, cooks preparing food on the other and in the middle bowls full of color, buckets of water to shoot at people and a DJ and stage!

I couldn't believe it. We ran around like idiots for about 3 hours. I was drenched to the core with all of my color fading into a dark green-black when someone decided it was time to roll out. The group was herded back into the truck and we headed out to a Farm Party. Again, when I walk into this amazing yard - it was transformed into a wonderland with a bar, and pool and DJ. You couldn't tell what anyone looked like and everyone was bright pink, yellow, green, purple and smiling. Even though it is a city of 12 million people, and I originally only knew one person that I started my day with most my friends in Delhi ended up at this place and we danced the night away.

I loved Holi, I wish that it was celebrated in the states, but knowing us...we would just make it violent and people would get hurt. It was one of those times where you really understand the true being of India. Where everyone puts the community before themselves just to keep the peace. We hit so many strangers in the heads with water balloons and I got hit many times too on my way to work. You are not always happy but you shrug it off and laugh and go one with your life. It was just a great day, and a great environment.

Happy Holi!

Pre-Stepping Outside

At the end of the night...

Temporary

2010-03-06T17:15:00.003+05:30

The life of an expat is so temporary...you know that you are not going to be here for long, your friends are constantly leaving and changing, you focuses adapt and you constantly have to decided who and what is worth your time in a world where everything is new and needs to be explored.

When I first moved to Delhi everyone told me that no one stays here long. They are stationed here for work. Most of the people who I have met who are not here for NGO work don't ever quite seem to leave their comfort bubble and don't really let India in. It is not an easy place. This means that there is a disconnect and a desire to finish your time and move on.

As a fresher, one of the first questions that I was asked was, "How long are you here for?" Within the seconds that it takes to answer the question, your audience has decided whether or not you are worth their investment. It sounds sad, but it is true. There is no point spending the time and energy getting to know someone new who is going to be leaving in a month.

Now that the summer is coming and the heat is starting to role in, those who have half of a brain and no contract holding them here are heading home, and shipping out. I hear the summers are miserable and you band together inside ACed rooms to survive. My roommate Alex left for Thailand last week and I miss him incredibly. Now Alison, the other rock in my Indian life is flying out tonight. Nadia, a new girl from France is my new housemate and although she is old to the city she is new to me. The dynamics change once again...

Old DelhiBycycle

2010-02-28T19:52:00.002+05:30

Annabelle was visiting from the Boston office and one of my favorite things to do is to play tour guide and take everyone into what I consider the heart of the city...Old Delhi...with the winding narrow pathways, goats, markets, spices and people everywhere.

I have been seriously missing my bike and I came across this company called DelhiBycycle where they lead bike tours through the city. Annabelle being a great sport said that she would come along. We were weaving in and out of traffic, there were people and cows and rickshaws all around. We went through the flower market and down the streets, but unfortunately because of the Holiday most of the shops were closed.

Even though I have been in Delhi now for 6 months and things on the new side of the city have stopped seeming strange, Old Delhi can still throw out surprises every now and then. At one point Jack our guide turned to me and said, "now we head into the meat bazaar." Okay I thought, brace yourself for a reinforcement of why you only eat Veg. in India. Being on the road you become super aware of all that is around you. To protect yourself from vehicles that may be trying to pass or cut you off your peripheral becomes heightened. I was going straight thinking that I haven't seen anything bad yet and that the streets were strangely uncrowded when I see something red and bopping coming up behind me. It was a man...running with the biggest, bloodiest hunk of flesh completely covering his upper body and resting on his head. His navy blue jacket was drenched and stained and I watched as he sprinted the carcass up the road and chuck it onto a completely unprotected van seat. I started looking in the windows of the vehicles that we were passing only to see repeats of these disgustingly fresh cavities. Running man after running man I tried to avoid them from brushing by me. I looked down to see that the puddles were actually pools of blood. We continued to ride only to see giant carts of goat heads, and next to it another one for the hooves. After this long in India few things bother me anymore. But with this I was officially grossed out enough so that I won't be eating meant anytime soon.

The ride was great. We had a chai break and saw parts of the city that you can only see when with a local. After 6 years, Jack was pretty comfortable with the route. I asked how long that they have been running the tours and I may have asked one too many questions because by the end I had been offered a job as an Old Delhi Bike Guide. Very tempting, and still not 100% decided no, but it would be a lot of early mornings and annoying people who don't know how to ride in traffic. I think that the 80 million heart attacks that I would receive from trying to maneuver unskilled riders through some of the worst traffic in Delhi might be more detrimental to my health than the benefits from all of the cycling.

The Golden Passport

2010-02-26T17:35:00.002+05:30

The biggest issue starting a travel company in India is that you have to not only sell your customer a tour that they are excited about, but then you have to figure out how the heck you are going to get them on a plane and out of the country. It is not very easy/very difficult for an Indian an American Visa and there is a lot of paperwork involved with all of the other countries.

This week I went to Chennai to meet with the first school group who was going to try and get their Visas from this consulate. With my American passport I was able to get security clearance and meet with the Chief Minister, only to stand outside for 5 hours and support the group after they learned that they were rejected. I had a glass of wine after that day.

I am learning quickly that if you have an American passport do not take it for granted. They can get you into many countries Visa and hassle free. For example: If India had something like Travelzoo's weekly last minute deals and there was an amazing opportunity to go to the US, and you were an Indian citizen who wanted to go, and you had the money to afford to go, you probably wouldn't be able to. Firstly, you probably wouldn't get the visa interview appointment in time. Secondly, you would have to be able to show that you have enough money in your bank account to prove that you will return from said trip. Lastly, even if you did get an appointment, and your documentation was perfect, there is a good chance depending on the consulate/embassy/counter/mood of the Visa officer that you would be rejected. What a strange concept that you cannot just hop on a plane and go on a vacation when you want to.

We Americans have it very easy!

Just a few from my most recent trip to Old Delhi

2010-01-28T01:11:00.001+05:30

Totally American

2010-01-27T22:25:00.002+05:30

I was staring at my closet I grabbed at comfortable day off clothes. Knowing that I was going for a walk and a coffee shop I grabbed my huge book and my backpack...normal right, well it is if you are American. Here no one older than 5 uses a backpack and wearing one screams "I'm not from here."

As I was bounding down the stairs I yell to my flatmate, "Alex, should I wear my backpack? If I do, everyone is going to REALLY know that I am not Indian!" Don't worry, I said this sarcastically as I recognized my ponytail and looked down at my running shoes and sweatshirt.

I left the house feeling overly Patriotic and knowing that no one was going to ask if I was Russian or German that day.

I Have to Belong to a Man

2010-01-27T22:04:00.003+05:30

I finally got my PAN card this week. This little card ensures my residency and saves me 100 rupees($2) to tourist sites in Delhi while only asking that in return I pay taxes...that's fair, right? It was supposed to be a 3 week process that lasted 5 months and after the 3rd rejection was what I suspect, pushed along with a healthy reward. On this card it has my squished Smirf-like picture, some holigrams, my full name, and then my Father's full name.

Interesting...On all of my formal documents, registration, lease, bank enrollment they all ask, "name of your father."

Alison and I were discussing this at work and then she calls over Mohit for some clarification:

"So, Mohit, what happens in the case that there is no father...I mean, what if a woman gets pregnant and there is no father, what do you put on the application?"

"What do you mean there is no father? That doesn't happen in India. You either put your father or husbands name."

"Okay, well what if you are not married and you don't have a husband?"

"Like if your father passed away? You would just put N/A or late."

"Well, let me put it this way, your wife has to put your name on her information correct? Saying she belongs to you?"

"Yes"

"Do you have to put your wife's name saying you belong to her?

"No, I would put my father."

"Okay, so she has to belong to you but you don't belong to her...Do I have to belong to a man"

Very definitely..."Yes."

Okay.

So it's just another one of those things that I don't quite get, but I go along with to make life easier. Hopefully some of these older patriarchal rules will diminish with time and eventually men will have to belong to their women as well.

Post from Shantaram

2010-01-24T18:48:00.002+05:30

I am on page 388 of my book and I am not even half way through. It is amazing so far and I recommend it to everyone. Currently my Mom and Dad, Jeff, Jeff's Dad, and I are all reading it. I hope that they are enjoying it as much as I am! I also hope that the rumors are true and that Johnny Depp is going to play Lin in the Movie. We will have to wait and see!

I couldn't have found p275 more true:

"A German cab driver might be pleased that a foreigner had learned to speak German. He might even say that he was pleased. Or say nothing at all. The same might be true of a French cab driver, or an American, or an Australian. But and Indian will be so pleased that if he likes something else about you -- your eyes, or your smile, or the way you react to a beggar at the window of his cab --he'll feel bonded to you instantly. He'll be prepared to do things for you, go out of his way, put himself at risk, and even do dangerous or illegal things. If you've given him an address he doesn't like, such as the Palace, he'll be prepared to wait for you, just to be sure that your safe. You could come out an hour later, and ignore him completely, and he would smile and drive away, happy to know that no harm has come to you."

This is something that is special about India. If you make someone happy and show them that you are trying to learn and understand their culture it will take you a long way. Because I asked the price of the ride in Hindi, the price was lower and he smiled the whole way home. I asked him to stop at the subzi wala so I could get some veggies on the way home, and he waited until I was finished, pulled a U turn so I didn't have to walk more than 2 feet with my bags, U turned again and took me home. I have had many people stop and wait, or ensure that I get to the place that I need to go by asking for directions 30 times on the way. The service in India is incomparable to anything else I have ever experienced.

Hinglish

2010-01-24T18:41:00.002+05:30

There is something endearing to the broken Hinglish that I speak to my maid. She once told my landlady and my roommate that I confuse here, but I think we are working through that. Seeing as I am usually the only person home when she comes to cook, I have learned all my veggies and numbers enough to say that I would like bhindi and chaar roti for dinner.

I love the way that she gets disappointed and scolds me when I put my water bottles in the fridge because she believes that cold water will make me sick. I also love that when food has gone off she shakes her hand, and then her head while gesturing to the trash and saying, "no, crap-o." I want to ask her where she learned that word.

This Is India

2010-01-24T18:36:00.003+05:30

The longer that I live here, the more I have come to love a saying commonly used among locals and expats equally, "This Is India" It is used to express, the love/hate experiences occur on a daily basis, well knowing that if you were anywhere else in the world you would not be dealing with, that you just have to shake your head at and laugh.

I spent the day today doing the laundry and cleaning my room. I washed my sheets, hung them out to dry, a pigeon shat on them - I am currently washing them for a second time... This is India.

Love/Hate

2009-12-30T21:01:00.003+05:30

The more you read about it and the more time you spend here you learn that what is written about India is nothing but true. It is a powerful and grand place filled with contradictions that will leave you conflicted and confused.

I came across this quick read that goes out to my Parents since they will be the next brave souls to venture west. I especially like how it ends with the commonly understood love/hate relationship. I don't know anyone who really has just said I love India without being followed by a but...

Even myself. I love India. I do...buuuuuuut...

http://goindia.about.com/od/planningyourtrip/qt/indiaarriving.htm

2010: A New Decade

2009-12-30T18:34:00.000+05:30

There are few ways to go about the New Years Resolution. There's the good ol' 'I am going to change my life around this year... grand promenade, open a new savings account, buy a new organizer, running sneakers, go to a jazzercise class once...and then never again. There's the silent keep-to-yourself planners who commit to a set of goals, power through and see what they can accomplish. Then there are those in the middle of the spectrum where I seem to be. I feel the need to tell people what my new hopes and dreams are for the new year, knowing that I am motivated by the fright of failing to accomplish that which I have made public.

This mindset could also be the same reason why I have somehow found my way to India. Julie Keech - if you still have the one and only copy of my 10 year plan that I snail mailed to Japan almost 4 years ago, I would love to see it...

So here it is folks, it's not too grand but it is a start

Quinnen's 2010 Resolutions:

Take Hindi Lessons and become conversational before leave India

Don't let comfort or discomfort stop me from exploring all the options that Delhi has to offer

Dance more often and maybe join a Class

The Abnormal is Normal

2009-12-30T17:52:00.000+05:30

I received 2 Christmas cards today at my office one from Stacy and one from Mr. and Mrs. Spencer. Mrs Spence, mentioning that you have enjoyed reading my posts sparked the guilt of blog abandonment that I have needed over the last month to overcome the uncreative mental block that I have been feeling recently. So this one if for you!

Last week I bought my first plane ticket to come home in March for Jeff's cousin's wedding. I am super excited to go home and be around friends, family and to get a break from Delhi. But as soon as my finger hit the confirm button another feeling that I wasn't expecting also came along...anxiety. I think that part of the reason that I have not been posting as much is because the abnormal is now normal.

It really hit me when I have had a slew of visitors in the last month. Erin G came down from Nepal and stayed the weekend, Martin was here from Bangalore and Ricky our new finance guy came in from the Canada office. I took Erin and Ricky to Old Delhi and was in no way phased by the swarms of people, I haggled right back with the rickshaw driver and realized that I had lost my slight awkwardness of navigating around a new city. Don't get me wrong, there is still a lot that I don't know about Delhi, but I think that I am finally developing my 'I belong' confident swagger that keeps locals from messing with you.

I say developing, because with India -- as soon as you get too cocky, it will chew you up and spit you out right back to the place that you belong.

When thinking about something such as identity it is always interesting to pay close attention to the semantics of your dialogue. For instance, I was meeting with Ricky talking about Indians in general, and said, "yeah, we..." immediately I paused, looked in my mental mirror and said...yup, still totally American, I should not be using the 'w' word yet.

With this change in perspective you can start to understand why I am a little nervous to come home. Have I picked up some really strange habits that I don't notice? I have already been called out on the fact that the infamous head wobble is working its way into my repertoire. What is the head-wobble you ask? Just wait for that post I am waiting for a good time to launch it.

When I come back, if we happen to run into each other, please keep in mind that I have been in a very different place. If I happen to push you, cut in line, spit or snot rocket in front of you, drive like a maniac (please keep me away from the driver seat), or stand too close; just know that in due time I will adjust back to the American social mores so don't be too harsh.

Christmas in India

2009-12-30T16:00:00.000+05:30

Christmas in India is tough unless you are in Goa. Even though my office and friends are very understanding and sweet, there is something that cannot be expalined about how Christmas in New England is just -- in the air. An energy, the excitement, the jolly spirits, the giving and the carols.

I tried my best. I woke up normal time, went to work wearing a christmas hat with flashing lights, handed out stocking and danced to Christmas music. But laughing with your family and friends around you in your comfortable warm house with snow falling outside, lights all around and spicy aromas of warm apple/pecan/pumpkin pie filling the air can never be replaced.

I hope that everyone had an amazing Holiday weekend and know that I was thinking about all of you! Thanks for the Christmas cards and wishes!

Why I love my Flatmate

2009-12-03T20:05:00.001+05:30

“Alex, do you have any Toilet Paper? Saabs and I ran out?”

“Yeah, here you go. Communist Toilet Paper, it is like wiping with newspaper.” “Have fun!”

a few minutes later…

While in the Kitchen waiting for my tea to boil Alex asked me, “will you sing a song?”

I busted out in ‘Oh when the Saints,’ because it has been in my head for the last few hours and for the dramatics I started doing an altered running man marching dance while he continued to cook his chicken-salami and laugh.

He said, “If I move to America, I hope that all Americans are like you.” I said, “Why so you can have songs and dance on cue?” He goes, “yeah, and when I return back to Finland and my friends ask me what are Americans like, are they like how they are in the movies…I am going to say yes!”

“What does that mean…”

“Don’t worry, it’s a good thing.”

“Ok, I am going to go back upstairs with my communist Toilet Paper and my Tea...Oh when the Saints…”

Always Tripping

2009-12-03T17:46:00.000+05:30

I am one giant mass constantly off balance with no control or say in the matter. I could attribute this to a few factors. Such as my theory that I have a messed up equilibrium or perception due to my one near-sighted eye and one far-sighted eye. I don't know if it is my learned confident walk that makes me look ahead and not down; or that at times I am just too lazy to lift my feet over impending objects. Mostly I blame it on the unfinished roads, gaping holes in the sidewalks, loose gravel, gross spills, animals, and traffic that you have to avoid that makes me unable to keep my face from plummeting downward.

Battle wounds:

Deep fist sized bruise on my butt from falling down a flight of stairs at my house

Lost toe nail - Right foot, second toe next to my big one...

...and the most recent one happened while trying to take a picture at sunset. I was looking through my camera when I stepped off a curb, my flip flop tucked under itself and I scraped off the bottom of one of my toes.

and now you know why I rave so much about my toe protecting, amazing grip Keen shoes - I should wear them more often.

Todays Weather Forecast

2009-11-12T17:14:00.000+05:30

20°C | °F

Current: Smoke
Wind: E at 10 km/h
Humidity: 46%Thu

26°C | 14°C

The Hog’s Ride

2009-11-11T20:16:00.000+05:30

Just a normal day, hopping into a rickshaw to get home after work. I am riding on the IIT flyover when I see two guys on a motorbike...Normal…with what looks like a dead hog in the middle of them…Not Normal. The guy in the back has the hog on its back arched over his lap and he seems to be tickling its neck when all of the sudden the thing starts kicking and wiggling. The driver tries to maintain focus and balance as this thing is thrashing about and the little man holding it is desperately trying to calm it before they all topple over. I was transfixed. I watched helplessly and could not turn away. Were they going to crash, would my auto stop in time to avoid hitting them? Does no one else find this strange or disturbing?

Finally, somehow the man was able to suppress the hog and the driving went back to normal and they proceeded out of my sight.

These are the days that I appreciate how strange of a place that I am in.

What Do You Mean?

2009-11-11T20:09:00.000+05:30

This question seems to haunt my life here. I think that I am getting along fine until I realize how many times a day I ask this question. You don’t realize how much you are learning on a daily basis even when you are not trying to. India just bombards your mind and senses and it is no wonder that I am so mentally exhausted by the end of the day even when I didn’t think that I accomplished much.

I look around the office and no one is working and upon inquiring I find out that it is another holiday. What this time? Oh, it is some Guru/God/famous persons’ birthday/death/great accomplishment. If you haven’t noticed the trend in my blogs Indians are always celebrating something, and I am always goggling/wiking to figure out what the heck is going on. I think it is just as an excuse not to work… Just yesterday I found out that they used to celebrate thanksgiving in the office. I asked if they knew what Thanksgiving was…Nope…like I mentioned just another excuse to celebrate.

In a normal day I am lost and confused at least 20 separate times and need to ask for clarifications. I constantly break Indian nuances and superstitions and they just assume that I know these things. For instance, you are not supposed to hand someone scissors because if you do, it means that you will fight in the future. What I thought was a simple question: What is the Indian equivalent of a Sophomore and Junior? A 10 minute discussion ensues.

I recently ordered a book called “Speaking to Indians.” Chapter 1: Yes means Yes, or Maybe, or No…how to tell

I was a Speech Communication Major in college for goodness sake. I studied small group and interpersonal communication. In the states I am clear and concise. In India, no matter how many times I repeat myself, speak slowly, and make analogies to my main point – the Indian mind cannot grasp my intensions and I can’t decipher their codes and hidden meaning either. Makes for difficult meetings, and boy is that frustrating.

Happy Birthday Grandma!

2009-11-02T21:42:00.000+05:30

Today is my Grandma's 87th Birthday, and she is an amazing woman! She inspired me to travel from an early age by enchanting me with stories of following Tennis around the world. I admire her adventurous spirt and I never tire of hearing about how she helicoptered over the glaciers of Alaska only a few years back against warnings and recommendations that she should not. Hopefully one day I will get to do the same. Happy Birthday Grandma! I love you!

Brutally Honest

2009-10-26T18:46:00.000+05:30

Sometimes the honesty is nice. Especially when it is a compliment because you know it it genuine. But sometimes it is just too much. Questions that Americans would find too personal are just openly asked, such as, "Are you married? No, Why Not?" Although not directly asked to me yet, it is apparently not rude to ask how much a person makes for their salary.

I have been told, "Oh, you don't look so good today." or "When you were wearing the sari I noticed that you are skinny. You don't look that way at work, you must just wear big clothes."

The comments on the floor to me today were, "Why is your nose so red?" Ummmm...the weather is changing and my skin is dry...awk #1. Then followed later in the day with, "Oh, what happened to your face?" (gesturing to my chin). Oh, that's just a zit...awk #2. Really. Can't you see that it is just a pimple, can't I be allowed to have one without being called out at work!

Drugs, Techno Music and Serial Killers

2009-10-20T17:58:00.000+05:30

Wondering what I am going to write about in this one? The other option for this blog title was going to be... "Nothing Like a Serial Killer to Ruin your Fun."

These are just three of the things that Goa has been in the news for recently. I went to Goa on Diwali weekend to escape the non-stop booming of fireworks and firecrackers that continue day and night for the entire weekend. It is a time for you to be with your family, and if you are not, well, it is just really loud.

The night before I was about to leave for my weekend in Goa, my flatmate came into my room and causally asked me if I had gotten a chance to read the news article that he sent to me at work..nope. He strongly suggested that I did because Goa was in the news, and not for a good reason. That night it was Thursday. It turns out that since the Sunday before there were 10 people killed in Goa, one of the smallest states in India known for its drug scene, hippies, beaches, and all night long beach techno music parties.

I was not planning on going away for any of the above reasons except for the beach and some relaxation from the busy city, but I also didn't want to live in fear that if I fell asleep that I would be strangled. I immediately called Alison and suggested that we be open to canceling the trip if we didn't feel completely comfortable and if I couldn't find out more information. I didn't know if it was locals, tourists or just the media making this a big deal.

After hours of scouring the net, I learned that it was three related murders of locals, two suicides and another murdering of a family that was involved in some kind of bad situation. No tourists. Didn't make it any easier to read about, but we decided to go, avoid the parties and just be very aware and cautious. We also were going off season and not staying in the party-central area.

* * * * *

I am glad that we made the decision that we did. We walked the beaches and relaxed and it was so nice to swim and get some exercise. We ate fresh fish and met some great people at our hotel. It was so quite in comparison to Delhi and just being there made my muscles relax.

I bought a ton of those Aladdin pants and they are my new favorite thing...and the best part was that I rented a scooter for the long weekend and drove around everywhere we needed to go with Alison on back. I was a little nervous at first since I have never driven a moped or motorcycle before, I had someone on back, I was on the wrong side of the road and I was dodging cattle left and right, but I picked it up quickly and I am definitely investing in one when I return back to the states. To have one in Delhi would just be a death wish.

Posing with our Scooter

Elephant at the Spice Plantation

Diwali

2009-10-15T20:36:00.000+05:30

Yes, it is yet again another holiday. Diwali, pronounced D-vul-E. The festival of lights, where streets are transformed into pieces of art and there are candles glowing and fireworks cracking throughout the night. Diwali is celebrated in north India similarly to how we celebrate Christmas. It is a big production with lots of gifts and shopping and holiday cheer. I have been avoiding the markets for the last two weeks because on top of the fact that there are tons of people in India, they also leave everything until the last minute. Think of the worst, crowded, chaotic mall you have ever been in during the holidays...now multiply that by 9.

We had our office celebration today and luckily the women took care of me and dressed me in a Sari, again. I better learn how to put one on before the novelty wears off. We worked for the morning, and then we had an elaborate Puja (prayer) set up. They all said that it was small, but the time and efforts that people put into setting them up was anything less than amazing. They did the puja, lit the candles, incense, prayed, and then we all went out for a nice lunch at the Hayatt.

It is so funny to me because every time that I go to one of these nice hotels I get so confused. It is almost like you are not in India anymore. There are all these foreigners and they are perfectly taken care of. You can tell that they feel like they are being really adventurous and getting out to see the real india, but they will see it only long enough to start to feel bad before they run back to their protective 5 star hotel bubble. Then they catch a glimpse of me and their look completely changes. I am American too, in the same hotel, yet wearing a sari, and hanging out with a group of 25 indians. Joking, hugging and wishing happy Diwali. They now are starting at me too. Wondering who I am. My co-workers comment on it, and I just laugh, because the lesson that I have gained is that I will not fit in anywhere while I am in India. But don't worry, I don't mind it, because now I stare too! I only notice it when I am around other foreigners. When I see someone who doesn't belong, I find myself so mesmerized and wondering what the heck they are here that I don't realize that I am starting until I am 5 minutes deep.

for my EFers!

picture time

2009-10-07T19:58:00.000+05:30

Just in case you are not on facebook, click on the links below to see photo Albums:

A Taste of Delhi

Sariska Tiger Reserve and Alwar

Shimla

Karva Chauth

2009-10-07T18:30:00.000+05:30

Today was another festival. It was called Karva Chauth. It is the day where the women fast for the long life of their husbands. So all of the women in my office today came in all dressed up in fancy suits with their bindis and bangles and looking gorgeous. I commented and they said that it was because of the special day. The women are not supposed to even drink water if they are observing properly. When the moon rises they are supposed to pray to the moon and then look at there husband while they are having their first drink of water for the day.

One of the girls brought in an extra pair or bangles for me and it matched my outfit perfectly. They are sparkly and made of glass and every time I moved they would jingle. It was really distracting and hard to get used to. Everyone was talking about marriage all day long and their husbands or wives all day long. One of the guys in the office noticed that I was wearing the bangles and he said, "do you like the Indian culture?" I said yes, and then he said, "do you want to marry an Indian man?" I responded..."I don't think my boyfriend would be to happy if I did." They all laughed and they are just so amused that I am willing to try all of the things in their culture.

Fat Fee and Gasping Lungs

2009-10-05T18:26:00.000+05:30

Just like when on a long flight at high altitude your feet start to swell…well mine have yet to return to a normal state after the long drive at high altitude to Shimla this weekend.

Highlights of Shimla:

Checked off my first India page in the “1000 Things to See Before you Die” book.
Seeing a man with an entire refrigerator strapped to his back, brand new in the box with the new customers following behind.
Horseback riding up a mountain
Spending 1.5 hours in the local Police Station

Shilma is a hill station north of Delhi by a 10 hour car ride, longer if you hit traffic. It took 12 hours up and 9 on the way down. Gravity and flying down the hills helped the return situation. It was settled by the British in the 1840s. It looked like a little colonial village transplanted to the hills of rural China. Figures that it would look that way since I wasn’t too far from the boarder. It was much cooler than Delhi and I def didn’t pack properly or warm enough.

If it seems like I have been traveling a lot recently, you are correct. It is the holiday season here in India and Friday was Gandhi’s birthday so it was a national holiday. I found myself waking up at 5:30 after I was up until 2:00am while Todd hacked into my computer and tried to remotely fix my still sadly broken iPhone. Wha! I jumped into the car with the brother of the driver that we had last weekend and we took off of a long journey north of the city and into the hills.

When we hit the hills we started winding and skidding up the switchbacks flying by huge trucks and squeezing into places that I never though possible. We had only 5 near-death experiences and I was really wishing that I had a seatbelt. I know – not what you want to hear mom but at least he wasn’t wearing one either. Funny how I am glad that he was not wearing one. If he was and I was not I would feel much more vulnerable. I find a disturbing comfort in the fact that if we crash he would be launched further than me, so in my mind he is going to make sure to drive safely.

To make the driving situation even better, half-way up the mountains it starts torrentially down pouring. I was distracted by the side window and trying to see the sights through it when Alex started to ask me, “what you call those things that fall from the sky, the little balls of snow.” I reluctantly said, “hail?” “Yeah,” he said, “that’s what it is doing right now.” I looked at the huge droplets and sure enough it was hailing.

As soon as we pulled into the city our Driver Amrik asked us where we were staying…like I said we didn’t really plan this out too well or have a guide so we said we didn’t know and to have someone recommend one. Either a good move or dangerous one depending on the locals deals with the hotels. You can get scammed pretty easily this way, but we took a chance. Two guys, one in his 40 and maybe his father took our stuff and started leading us up these tiny stairways and through the streets of the markets. We had to walk quickly to keep up and make sure that they didn’t take off with our stuff. Luckily they stopped and waited when the flow of people would allow and made sure that the huffing and puffing tourists were still behind them. This is a good time to remind you that we were at a significantly high altitude and my asthma and Alex’s smoker lungs were both struggling.

We tried about 4 hotels and most of them either didn’t have space or they only had the super expensive presidential suites. It was a holiday long weekend and the pickings were slim. We finally decided on a place that had a great view but only a bucket shower (you pour the water out of the spicket and use a pouring cup to shower). Checking in is always something I dread. You have to have your passport and go through an interrogation…where are you from, when did you get here what is your passport number, visa number, husband’s or father’s name, relation to the person you are with…married…to avoid awkward stares and judgments. It was per Saabira’s advice. Then the next step, your address. “Delhi? You live here?” Citizenship – American. The hotel guy said, “no, you can’t have a Dehli address…are you Indian?” “no, American, but I live here.” “No you can’t, you are Indian then?” “No I am American, but I live here.” This went on for far too long and is always more difficult than needs to be.

We were the most excited for Jakhu hill the highest point in Shimla where there is a temple to the monkey god Hanuman. We struggled up the climb while men in their 50’s where shuffling by with grace and their tongues still in their mouths. The top was well worth it with the morning light hitting the orange and red flags. It was also perfectly accentuated with tons of menacing monkeys. Locals actually carried sticks to bang on the ground and scare them away. I was convinced that they were going to jump and attack me and for the first time I was regretting not getting my third rabies shot.

There was one local kid about 17 years old who was obsessed with Alex and me. He introduced himself and then his father, and then asked if we would take his picture. After we did he shook each of our hands followed by a bear-hug. I wasn’t expecting that at all and he kind of knocked the wind out of me. Later in the day he found us again heading down the hill. He grabbed my hand again and started jogging down the mountain. I started running with him at first, but fearing crashing on my face I was able to wriggle my hand out of his. I needed a distraction to stop running before I tripped so I asked him if I could take his picture. He immediately bear-hugged me again and then asked for a kiss on the cheek. I thought it was strange, but humored him and then he turned his other cheek and pointed to it for Alex to kiss! He did. The boy was so happy, that he laughed and went off running down the mountain smiling. I don’t know what happened there, but I think that we made his year

At this point it was only 9:30 so we called our driver and he took us to Kurfi where we could see a higher vantage point. I turned out to be a huge tourist trap and before long Alex and I were seated on horses and headed up a hill. Don’t ask. It was a fun experience trudging up the side of a muddy cliff. Alex’s horse was old and had to basically be dragged while mine led the way and ran into other horses almost knocking me off a few times. All in a day’s fun.

When we got the to top as always there were tons and tons of people asking to take photos of us. At this point we both decided that it was just that people were curious and there was no real harm. Right as we were leaving tired and ready to go home one guy asked for a photo. I said yes, and the next thing I know there were 15 people around Alex and I posing. I had my camera bag on my back…can you guess where this is going…when the picture was done I went to call the driver and my camera bag was unzipped and my phone (my flatmates borrowed phone) was gone.

That was the first time that I felt violated here. I had let down my guard since I had been in so many pictures and there were no repercussions. I was just frustrated and more than anything just felt really guilty for losing my flatmates phone. It was our only contact with our driver and every single car here is white or silver. Luckily I have pretty good attention to detail and was able to hike through three parking lots and identify our car.

We tried to go to the Kurfi police to fill out a report, but they were very unhelpful and didn’t believe me. They kept saying, “you lost it? Are you sure it didn’t fall out on the ride? What about your driver, could he have snatched it?” No, no, no, it was stolen! I tried to call it with Alex’s phone and whoever had it turned it off so I couldn’t get through. I then had to drive down the mountain and go to the Dhalli police station. I walked into a room of 7 people sitting around, only 2 in uniform and told them the story. Together they came up with the right questions and had my write out on a piece of paper so they could type it up. They kept saying that they were going to start the investigation tomorrow and that I had to come back up and it was going to be difficult because there were no suspects to identify. There was an obvious communication block. I didn’t expect to see the phone again, I just wanted an official and stamped piece of paper saying that it was stolen to take to the phone company and to insurance if anything could be covered. 1.5 hours later I left with a stamped paper, and 7 new friends who were apologizing for the experience.

On the way home we decided to drive up to Summer Hill where Gandhi used to live when he was in Shimla. On the hill is the gorgeous old Viceregal Lodge that is part of the Indian Institute of Advanced Studies. It is where the old British Government would spend the summer months. 6 months in Shimla and 6 months in Bombay/Mumbai. It was just too hot in Mumbai in the summers so they headed to the hills. I really wanted to see this place, but we left Shimla at 6 am and the place didn’t open until 9:30. Luckily our driver picked up a local guide on the way and he talked his way into showing us around. He came in and gave us a tour since he convinced the guards that we were his visitors. He showed us around and didn’t even ask for any money in return. What a nice way to end a great trip.

We left the weekend on such a high note feeling rejuvenated by the mountains and fresh air, aka the light headedness of altitude sickness…no it was so beautiful and an amazing experience and I would love to go back there in the future. But for now, back to the hustle, bustle and pollution of the busy city.

Thoughts from the Car

2009-10-02T20:48:00.000+05:30

It hits me at strange times. I am sitting in a car on the ride up to Shimla readin my book and not knowing whether the main character is really dead or not. At this heavy section of my book I feel that I need a break to digest, so I took a deep breath in and look around to see my surroundings. India. I look over to Alex asleep in the seat next to me thinking how funny it is that I am here. Who would have thought that in all this time I would end up living in India. Making new friends through random circumstances and feeling strangly comforted by the lack of familiarity.

When Life Gives you Lemons…

2009-09-27T20:43:00.000+05:30

This weekend was my first weekend trip outside of the city. My roommates and I have been planning for some time now to go to a city in Rajasthan called Udaipur. It is the “City of Lakes” and called the Venice of India. We bought our train tickets and were preparing ourselves for our first Indian overnight train. I heard was a complete experience in its own. We get to the train station early only to find out that our tickets say that we are waitlisted and there is absolutely no space on the train to upgrade or downgrade. Nothing. We stood there and watched as our train and our weekend plans chug, chugged away from us.

Determined to make something of the weekend we all went home, all grabbed our computers and guidebooks and sat in my room calling friends, and researching places that we could get to see enough of and return home in two days and still be close enough to Jaipur where Saabria was meeting her parents on Monday. Not the easiest project. We decided on Sariska Tiger Park. We called a service, found a driver and arranged for an early 6 am pick-up.

We got about an hour outside of Delhi when we hit a major traffic jam. There was a queue of brightly painted and decorated trucks pulled to the side of the road for miles. We tried to go around them by finding back roads but just ran into a blocked road every way we went. Our driver Mansihgn was asking everyone he could for alternative routes and what is one person’s business is everyone’s business. People were all listening to the issue and throwing out suggestions. Everyone was willing to help. It was great. Finally we t-boned an auto (rickshaw) driver and he offered to lead the way. He was local and also needed to get through the traffic. He is navigating these little routes until we found ourselves driving through the middle of a market! In traffic no rules apply. Desperate not to fall behind our new traffic savior Mansighn jumped out of the car and moved a table below the tent that we were driving under to get by.

Once back on the main road there were random people from the town who had jumped out onto the road to direct the traffic. It was such a mess. The thing is, that there are so many people and a traffic jam just creates something for many people to do so strangers are more than willing to help. In a strange way I started to feel like part of a community with these random people and their kind deeds.

The roads are such a mess and there is a whole form of communication that I quickly learned. If you are behind a truck you will go onto the other side of the road to pass it. A honk behind the truck means you are going to pass it. Many honks when you are beside the truck means either you are pushing me off the road or you need to slow down so I can cut in front before I hit this car head on. If you are on the correct side of the road going with the flow of traffic and you flash your lights you are acknowledging that you see that car coming at you. If you flash your lights when you are on the wrong side of the road it means that you are telling the car in front of you that you are heading at them and they better slow down and not hit you before you can cut over. We slammed on the breaks and avoided being smashed by trucks more times than I would like to admit, but somehow these crazy drivers are so skilled that you start to relax. I mean, I did so much that I fell asleep for a majority of the ride.

The lives of the people in the country are so different than those of the people in the city. You see the women in their colorful saris carrying grass, sticks, and tools on their heads while the men are sleeping the day away…okay not all, but it is known that in the poor communities it is the women who do the manual labor and the men have an easier situation. Of course this is a complete generalization, but Alex said that he wanted us to point it out to him if we see one man lifting anything…and we couldn’t the entire ride.

We got to the park at 12:30 after a long ride of horrible roads and found out that our 5 year old lonely planet had wrong info and the park closed at 4 and there were no safari’s until the season started next weekend. Saabira just looked at us and said, “this is just not our weekend” It was starting to feel that way until we headed to the park and drove around seeing Monkeys, Peacocks and a Leopard! It was so wild and kind of scary even though we were in a car. I wasn’t expecting that at all since there were rumors that there were no more tigers living in Sariska because of poaching. It totally redeemed the weekend for everyone in the car!

From there we headed to Siliserh where there was a lake to relax at. We went out on a paddle boat ride to watch the sun set. It was so calming and it was a nice way to end the night. After reading in the guide book that there were hotels that said, “single women will feel uncomfortable here” we decided to ask more locals for recommendations. We found a great hotel with a great terrace and we settled down for the night.

The next morning we read about a fort (Bala Quila) up in the hills the next town over in Alwar. Little did we know that this was going to be a trip less about the destination and more about a cultural experience. It was a religious holiday weekend and we were headed to a place with not one, but two temples on it. We walked for hours flanked on all sides at all times with an entourage of 20-30 people following us; old and young, men and women. Although it was always the men who were trying to talk and laugh. If ever encountered alone or asked a question that they don’t know, trust me the group confidence quickly subsides into embarrassment. The attention was funny at first, but by the third hour of it, I didn’t want to be asked what country I was from, if Alex with his long blonde hair was a boy or girl or if was I “enjoying?” I just wanted to walk in peace and stop being harassed and having my picture taken. Motorbikes were driving too close and honking and I just wanted out. Saabira was frustrated that she couldn’t go anywhere with her flatmates without all of the attention. It really can stop you from enjoying the peaceful atmosphere.

All in all it was an interesting weekend to say the least. We didn’t want to just let one slow rolling train ride off with our fun, so we made the best of the situation and ended up having a great weekend. I will tell you one thing. I will never go back to Alwar and their non-touristy area. It was just too much attention and I am all set with the celebrity life for quite some time.

Off the Grid

2009-09-24T18:16:00.000+05:30

Well, I received frustrating news today...

Last Saturday while relaxing at my house I decided to give my computer the bi-weekly allowance of downloading all of it's updates. Included was one for my iPhone. Great! I love new developments and software updates for my beloved pink phone. So I download it and hit install. Instantly my phone starts syncing and then my screen goes white with a message on my iTunes that I have illegally unlocked my phone and that they have taken the liberty to locked it again.

Okay, so granted I had to take my phone somewhere to activate it to the indian cell service, but I am living here for goodness sake. It's not like it is an affordable option to make long distance calls on the american international plan. I didn't even realize that it was not allowed. I just thought that you ran some risk of things not working properly.

So I gave my phone to someone in my office to take back to the original place to Unlock it again. I gave him my phone on Monday, it is now Thursday and I still don't have it. Last time it only took an afternoon...never a good sign. So I inquired after my phone, and found out that somehow my computer betrayed me and sent some message behind my back to the apple police. What! I thought this was my computer. I didn't invest a bunch of money into a Mac to have it tell on me! Back-stabbing piece of finely crafted aluminum. Jack, can you do anything about this!

The reason for this, is that the the iPhone in India costs $700 and the cell service is much cheaper. They shut down phones like mine to avoid american iPhones from being brought over illegally and sold for significantly lower prices. I get it, but it still doesn't make me any less upset.

I always used to talk about how I like to be off the grid and I hated being available to everyone at all times, but I have become so reliant on my cell phone...google maps lets me know if a rickshaw driver is going the wrong way, note pad lets me jot down ideas for my blog. I can't effectively meet up with anyone, and if they are running late, how am I supposed to know. Life without my iPhone is a lonely vulnerable place. I know - dramatic, but I miss it and I am angry at Apple for limited my global opportunities.

Smelly Delhi

2009-09-21T21:44:00.000+05:30

I know it is not nice to call names, but Delhi is just smelly! I am not quite sure what it is, but you will be riding around and then you come by one of the most foul smells causing you to want to hold your breath until you pass out. People litter and oh, it makes me so so so angry! I want to get out of the car and throw the trash back in their faces. But I don't think that is where the smells come from. I think it is the foul, spoiled food on the streets and the Cows and the stray dogs. I am not sure.

The people just don't respect the land around them. They are constantly spitting everywhere - while walking, out of rickshaws and on the sidewalks. I find my klutzy self always looking down to avoid the hazards of the sidewalk: uneven pavement, slippery marble walkways, spit, trash, food, dog poop, and puddles. I will contort my body mid-step to avoid the puddles. You never know what it is. I think I walked through puke yesterday. I know TMI.

So perfect segue from the puddles is that the men Pee anywhere and everywhere! There is no discretion. If you have to go, you just go. People will just hop off their bikes and go on the side walk. I am still not used to it and I pass at least 2-3 people on my way to work each morning, if not more. No wonder people are so religious about taking their shoes off when they get into their houses. It is just disgusting!

I am Legal!

2009-09-21T18:51:00.000+05:30

The FRRO (Foreign Regional Registration Office) is one of the most torturous experiences. I had been warned ahead of time to bring snacks, water and comfortable shoes because it is an all day affair. I thought that people we exaggerating, but not so much.

It all started when Alison told me that I had to get registered. I knew that I had to, but I kind of brushed it off. I had to gather all of this paperwork to get it taken care of and she said that it was an awful process that took her three visits to get right. To spare me of this pain she wrote down all of the papers that I needed. The most difficult one to get was my lease from my Landlady. It only took a month from when I moved in. Like I said, it is really efficient here...not!

Luckily my company arranged for me to have a driver bring me to the FRRO in the morning since I had no clue where it was and I needed to get there early. It opened at 9:30, so as I was advised I was picked up at 7:30 and arrived to a bunch of Expats sitting around a courtyard at 7:45. I sat down and someone motioned to me that I had to put my name on a list. So I walk up the ramp to the wrong list, find the right list, don't have a pen, have the only other American give me a pen, write down my name as # 24, and then sit down. Meanwhile, I realize that my driver who I cannot communicate with at all is waiting around and probably thinks that he has to stay until I am done and bring me to the office. I start trying to explain to him that he can go and I will take and auto home, but he doesn't understand. So he grabs this other guy who still can't translate and then the only other American comes to my rescue once again...turns out he speaks Hindi. From helping me twice we soon connected over the fact that we firstly both spoke english, and secondly we were in a miserable situation.

As 9:00 rolled around, it was so hot and there was no shade. They lined us up in the order that we arrived and we stood in line for another 40 minutes until the doors opened. As we waited we started talking about the horror stories of people having to come back multiple times and not getting the paperwork, or waiting only to find out that you have the wrong stuff. We went through our checklists only to learn the Mike had forgotten his passport photos at home (and you needed 4 for the process). It then took another hour to get to the woman who took my passport and gave me a number so that I could stand in another line. I at least was out of the sun. So as I am standing in this corridor I am looking around and I see that everyone has a paper that they are filling out and that they neglected to give to me. I had to hunt this down, but no one was willing to help. I couldn't even ask Mike to translate because he was running around trying to find a photo shop (not too difficult - one was set up across the street to take advantage of situations like this).

I finally got the paper and start filling it out - people cutting and on top of each other, all grabbing for the glue and sharing pens. I get to the head of the line breaking out in nervous sweat to find out if I am going to be rejected. There were four men sitting behind the counter. One checking paper, one occasionally writing down the directions to places were people could find the info they were missing and the other two were just hanging out. For a place that is run so inefficiently you would think that they would use the extra hands on deck to actually do some work. There were arguments and people going up to the man that had the "In Charge" sign hanging over his head and complaining. I looked at him, handed him my passport, then my application, my work contract, my letter saying that I worked at the office, the letter saying that if I got in trouble that my job would take responsibility, my 4 passport photos, and then my lease...my lease that took a month to get was not Notarized. I was rejected. After 4 hours of waiting I was rejected. I couldn't believe it. I started to ask what I had to do and he was not surprisingly very rude and unhelpful. I argued and told him that he had to give me a number and that I would be able to get the notary before I was called in the line. He said fine, put me in the queue. I asked for the address of the Notary. He sighed frustratedly, turned to the guy next to him, said something in Hindi and I was handed a paper that said, "Delhi Public Notary." No address or directions...Thanks for the help!

I look at Mike who has to make photocopies after nearly making it through the process on his study visa and we venture back out into the heat. We are wandering aimlessly asking people for directions and no one knows where the DPN is. Finally we say those words and this old man on the street looks at us knowingly gesturing for us to follow him. He starts walking quickly through a maze of people then through another maze of markets and shops. I have no clue where we are but he knows were we have to go. Desperately not wanting to miss out on our place in line we chase after him. He was very quick for someone I would say was 70+ and I had trouble keeping up, and we all know I am a fast walker. We finally end at a Notary. I pay 150 rupees to get some stamps on a piece of paper -- they didn't even look at what was written on it or take any type of identifications (just a giant waste of time and money)! Then the man leads us to a photocopier, waits for us to finsih and leads us back to where we came from. We thanked him, gave him 50 rupees and headed back to the FRRO. While this was happening all I could think about was...only in India...

We got back to the FRRO and proceeded to sit for another 2 hours only hoping that we would have everything correct for the next step. I made it through the gauntlet and thanked Alison 100 times for the pre-info and Mike got rejected. He had to get paperwork sent to him from a town 40 minutes away so that he could get the info processed and head to Jaipur that weekend. What a mess!

Even though it is a highly annoying and inefficient process, the one good thing is that everyone who is here 6 months or longer has to go through it. You can't cut the line no matter who you are and you have to be present. Even if you are paying someone to stand in line for you, you have to show up and sit so you are present when you are handing in the paperwork. I cannot believe that I might have to do this all over again when I renew my visa. Here is hoping that I can avoid it by some chance.

Despite Everything...I feel proud to say that I am now an official resident of New Delhi, India

Don't Yuck My Yum

2009-09-14T20:30:00.000+05:30

This is a long awaited post for some of my foodie friends out there who have been asking me since day one...what have you been eating. I hope that this post satisfies your curiosity, but there is still have a huge gastronomical expedition ahead of me.

Commonly asked questions about my food habits:

1. Are you a vegetarian?

Yes, one that eats all meat :) I get stereotyped often as a vegetarian, because I love tofu, granola, and could live off of vegetables for the rest of my life, but if a steak looks great, it is on my plate. I love lentils but I live for Bacon. The way that I describe it is I am a very non-picky eater who prefers veg dishes and takes advantage when going to a place famous for it's meat like Karims where I went with my roommates the first week of Delhi that is known as a "non-vegetarian delight"

2. Do you like Indian Food?

Love it! The only time I got sick of it was right before I left Boston when everyone who I told that I was moving to Delhi wanted to take me out to an Indian restaurant to celebrate. I have since learned that the only kind of Indian food that I had tried at home was Northern Indian. I have also discovered a much different version of Southern Indian which I also love.

3. Does India have anything besides Indian food?

Yes, Delhi has many different types of food, but that doesn't mean that it is prepared well. The mexican was less than average and didn't even come close to comparing to Anna's or the food that I had in San Diego the month before I came here. I have had plenty of Thai, there is seafood, sushi (which I haven't had yet) and Subway, McDonalds, PizzaHut...and the like. I have not had McD's yet, but the Subway is right next to work and on a typical day I would get an Aloo Patty or Corn and Peas sub with one type of cheese...cheese. Yeah, I know, doesn't sound that appetizing huh? Well, I resisted for a while and when I tried it, it wasn't that bad.

3. Are you scared that you will get sick?

Been there done that...Not too badly in India yet. They commonly refer to it as the "Delhi Belly" and I hear that when it hits, you know. I was sick for almost a month in Costa Rica and I almost died in Budapest with some Goulash gone bad landing me in the hospital. Thanks for the ride to the ER that day Jack. I still owe you! So needless to say, I have convinced myself that I have been sick so many times that I have built up a little bit of resistance to play with.

Let me continue by saying that I am no food expert. I may or may not have waited (I did) until restaurant week was over in Boston before moving here, but I have just started learning about French cuisine and terms like " amuse bouche" and how to say french fries in the fancy way...frites. But I do like to think of myself as an adventurous eater. I think that started when I was a little kid. With my parents not allowing me to leave the table without trying whatever they were eating. How was I supposed to know if I liked it without trying it. I have learned that I like things spicy, and if they are a little dangerous or weird it just makes it even more fun. I still have to find something more strange than crispy caterpillars to beat Jeff. The worst part is that he had to pick the legs out of his teeth when he was done. What can one-up that?

So back to the Indian cuisine. The indian that you are used to in Boston and elsewhere in the states is typically Northern Indian foods like Palak Paneer, Chicken Tandori, Tiki Masala and Dal. It is heavier and it is usually meat or veg in some sort of gravy(sauce) and delicious. The Southern Indian food is more like Dosas and Uttappam. Southern Indian food is generally eaten with your hand and I am getting good at scooping the rice in three fingers and using my thumb to push it into my mouth.

Within the two cuisines I have tried all sorts of things. Usually I go into a restaurant and look at the menu, that looks something like below:

Murg is Chicken

and I just ask for something that I have no clue what it is and learn if I like it or not. It sometimes works and sometimes has been a disappointment. I also ask for their recommendations and see what is brought to the table. For those who are indecisive a great option is a Thali this is a bunch of little samples of many different types of food. It usually comes with rice and a few roti to eat all sorts of delectable. After one such southern indian meal I was asked if I wanted Paan.

Thali and a Lassi in the background

Alison and I eating our Dosas

paan

I didn't know since I had never had it, so I said sure. It was explained to me that is was a bunch of spices wrapped up in a leaf that is eaten to cleanse the palate after a meal. I could def benefited from one of these so when it came to the table I popped it in my mouth, chewed for about 30 seconds before it became unbearable and I embarrassedly spit it out. I learned that day that I do not like Paan.

Bread is another adventure. There are so many different kids that you can choose from. There is Naan, Roti, Chapati, Appam and I am sure many more, but those are the ones that I eat most oftenly. I describe the Appam as the squishy one shaped like a bowl. I really like Naan and I have Chapati's for dinner every day.

Which leads me to another great point...what do I eat for dinner you ask? Well that was a question that my very concerned and interested team asked me today. I been lucky enough to have my maid Punita cook for our house 5 times a week. We, meaning Saabria my Indian roommate and the only person in the house who can speak Hindi orders the veggies and then based on what we have Punita will cook up something delicious. She made Aloo Gobi two days ago and I loved it, and today we had a Okra Curry, which I scarfed down. Alex and Saabs get their meats form the market or have the chicken place deliver to the house. They have been eating these delicious, seasoned and spiced chicken kebabs.

something Punita made thrown in with some of Alex's chicken Kebabs and Meatballs

I have been being told since day one...don't eat the street food. You don't know how long it has been there and how sanitary it is, so of course I couldn't resist. I was at the Sarojini Nagar Market the first time I tried Gol Gappa. I was kind of hungry and with my roommate Saabs who said casually, want to try this? Trustingly I was hoping that she wouldn't put my stomach or health in danger, so I said yes. The guy gave us two little tin bowls and he took a tiny puff pastry, shoved something that looked like potatoes inside, and then dunked it in broth and served it bare-handed to our bowls. Saabs looks at me and says pop the whole thing in your mouth at once like sushi. I did and it was quite good. I thought we were just getting one, but I soon found that as soon as you were finished he would just pop another on in the tin. I think that we got 6 each not a bad deal.

So there is still so much to try and I haven't even ventured that far into the options. I am sure there will be many more delicious tries and some that will be disastrous, but for now good night, and remember don't ever yuck someones yum, especially if you haven't tried it yourself.

Not Giving into Peer Pressure

2009-09-12T08:40:00.000+05:30

I am so incredibly inspired by my new job. I know that I am working for the same company, but it is a whole different ball game and I am so intrigued by every little aspect of it. It was exactly what I needed, a new challenge thrown in my face. I just want to learn as much as possible so that I can excel. I am going back to the basics and I feel like such a nerd. My room is filled with books about India. I play with Google maps every night and stand in front of my Delhi city map on my was pronouncing the names of the markets and areas. My roommate has already told me on multiple occasions that my Hindi pronunciations are horrendous and I should be ashamed.

I just read the Namesake in three days, I am looking into Rosetta Stone to learn Hindi and tonight I decided not to go out dancing and drinking so I could stay in and read articles on negotiation and business to business selling…like I said, I am really cool!! (I thought that deserved two). But it’s strange; I just can’t get enough learning about it all. I want to know the culture; I want to figure out the art of bartering and being able to completely connect so I can get the sale. How am I supposed to teach it, and at that – confidently if I don’t know that I myself can do it. So here begins my journey.

Many of the schools are for-profit businesses and they see every thing that is presented to them as an opportunity to make money and better their business. Principals want to know what they can get out of it and management wants to make sure that the tours are really going to make them more marketable to the students and the parents who pay the tuition that they are all competing for. This is different than in the states, where “it’s for the children” In Boston we trash talk the greedy teachers who are doing it to make money, secretly admiring their gusto. Here in India where it is expected that everything is negotiable, it is expected that when we present a price, the school will push back saying, "okay I see that. Is this the Price that you give to all of the schools? Now what can you do for me." What is the answer to this? Well what I am quickly learning is that it does really depend on the school, their prestige and how we can use their name in our next sales pitch.

After going to the market for the weekend with my new roommate I am learning that she is a fierce negotiator - and Hindi isn't even her first language. I now have a goal to have her come work for my company. Either that; or she will have to teach me everything that she knows. I asked her what her secret is. She said that she just says no. I followed up by saying well what if you don’t know what the cost is, and she said that you just have to learn over time and trust your judgment of whether they are cheating you or not. The only problem she continued, is that when they are being honest and you try to bargain too much it will teach them to have a higher price at the start. It's a vicious cycle because everyone thinks that they are being cheated and no one trusts anyone. That's why relationships and referrals are so important here.

Okay, well I am off to read my “Getting to Yes” book by Fisher, Ury and Patton Second Edition that I bought at the Harvard Coop and brought all the way here with me just in case I found myself in a position like I am in tonight. Feeling like a nerd!

A Few Quirks

2009-09-07T21:12:00.000+05:30

There are some things here that just make me laugh because my reactions are so ingrained by society, and I didn't notice the strange things around me or that I do until the behaviors are not the norm of the people around you.

1. Tight, Decorated Pants. As we know back home, this is a normal thing for women who are going out or maybe trying to look good on the weekend. The more stitching and design, usually the more designer and expensive. They are tight and showy, and we think that they look good...and so do the men here :) So most of the women in their day to day life either wear saris or loose fitting suits (Pant and long shirt sets) and it is the men who wear tighter pants. It cracks me up! It is not everyone, but many of the men that I drive by in the mornings on my way to work have bum-hugging designed jeans and they are so skinny that their belts wrap one and a half times around them. As promised, when I finally get around to it, a picture will be posted.

2. No Bless You. I didn't realize how ingrained in the American culture that when someone sneezes, at least one person yells out "Bless You" or it's considered rude. So of course the first week of being in the office, I loudly said bless you, and no one else responded. I totally called myself out saying, "oh, you guys don't say that here, huh?" They tried to make me feel better by saying that they do sometimes, but since then, every time I sneeze no one blesses me.

3. Being Called Ma'am. I don't know if I am ever going to get used to this one. It is like, "Good Morning Ma'am. How are you doing Ma'am. Sure Ma'am. That's 40 rupees ma'am." and so on. I just want to say, "Just call me Quinnen!" But I think that would be rude. It makes me feel a mixture between being and old lady, but mostly awkward like I have some superior status.

4. No longer thinking that 89 degrees is hot. My AC has been broken for the last week or so, but luckily as everyone has been telling me, "It hasn't been hot recently." I agree, only sweating a little bit in comparison to when I first got here. It was 93 degrees today.

5. Touching Water and Beer before it is served. One thing that I was warned about was to check the seal on water before drinking it. I knew to look for that, but when I ordered a bottle of water at a table and they presented it to me like a bottle of wine, I didn't know what to do. I nodded, and then Alison quickly reached out her hand and touched it. She explained that I have to touch it and tell them that it is acceptably cold before they will pour it.

6. Testing out appliances before buying. Similarly, when buying an appliance at a store or market, everyone opens everything, removes it from its packaging and presents it to you for your inspection. They plug it in and show that it works and allow you to quickly turn it away, only to have to pack everything up all over again before the next customer. I just take for granted the trust that we have for our stores in America.

Run and Jump

2009-09-02T22:52:00.000+05:30

I went to a market today after work and got stuck in rickshaw traffic so it gave me plenty of time to sit back and observe the happenings around me. I am still shocked after riding around all of this time that the roads somehow work. I thought that my vehicle was going to squeeze out a motorbike or I was going to get crushed by a bus multiple times, but man do these rickshaws stop on a dime. If they get in a jam. The just get out and push them where they need to be re-corrected. So far I have only seen one accident, and I wouldn't even call it that by any standards.

So speaking of Vehicles, the busses particularly fascinate me, even more than the auto or bike rickshaws. I had been warned before coming to never take a bus and I didn't quite understand why until I saw one. The local busses are packed like sardines. I know that is an expression, but seriously, I have never seen this before. There are so many people that half of them are hanging off the end or the side or the bus. I haven't even figured out how they get off when it is their stop.

But the best thing about these busses are that when people see them and they are running late, the traffic is so slow that they can just run and jump. I watched in disbelief on my first day, saw it happen many more times, and then just today to inspire this blog. Seriously, I think that this system should be adopted in more cities. Don't worry about the safety standard and let the person who is running make the judgement call. If they miss and fall, their fault for trying. If Boston adopted this there would have been many less days of me running, panting, knocking on the door of the bus at the stop light, being rejected, yelling, and then late to work Quinnen. I am just saying that maybe safety rules aren't all they are cracked up to be.

Wedding, Marriage, and Family

2009-09-02T10:46:00.000+05:30

These are three things that are super important to most of the Indians that I have encountered. I think that I was asked by almost everyone in the office if I was married within my first week. At my age I should be married. I should at least be wondering why I am not, or telling my parents that I don't want to be arranged. I think at my age, a fresh, young 26 year old that I am on the boarder of old maid, or at least by 30 I would be. At least I can say that I have a boyfriend and that sees good enough for most people.

Indians wear a lot of rings and a lot of jewelry, but no wedding band. So one day I asked, "who in the office is married?" and the answer was, "just assume everyone."

It has been so interesting learning about arranged marriages and the whole process, because it is nothing like I thought. My understanding was that the two getting married were complete strangers and the woman has absolutely no say in the matter and it is the saddest time of her life because she is generally going to be moving far away from her family. Although this does still happen with certain people, more of the poor or little tribal towns, it is less common in the bigger cities.

I was talking to one woman who after asking me if I was married she said straight out, "I was arranged." Okay, I thought, how am I supposed to answer - was she happy, was she not, was she just trying to teach me about the culture? So, I just asked. Were you happy about that? She said that she is because she got a good guy. She explained that when she was ready to find a husband her family put an ad in the paper and then a bunch of men would respond with their credentials. Out of the ones whom she was interested in, she would meet them and their families and then it would be decided upon. They way she described it is that she very much had a say, but the families are really involved and in arranged marriages, often the couple doesn't meet more than a few times before they decide.

Love marriages are becoming much more common and women are starting to refuse to be arranged. This only works if the family allows it, like I mentioned earlier. The bride's family has to give a huge dowery, but then they no longer have to support the daughter, so that is why it is better to have them married off. The men on the other hand, chose their bride and then get married and then I think often live with the man's family.

Since the man receives the dowery and the family doesn't have to pay for the weddings, having a male son is seen as a cause to celebrate. The weddings are set up in a very similar fashion. And just to remind you, I went to a North Indian Wedding which is much different than a South Indian Wedding. The traditions are just different. I got all dressed up in my Sari from the holiday party purchased in the US. So, come to find that it is incredibly plain and not a wedding Sari. This means that there is no sparkle or jewels or beading in the material. The girl that was getting me ready kept saying that it doesn't matter what I wear, just the fact that I am wearing a Sari is great!

I showed up and there were fireworks and a small marching band and people holing lights and in the middle of the music players was the family, drenched in sweat, dancing right in front of the main attraction. The Groom on a horse. He is sitting up there with a little boy. Who is this little boy you might wonder, well again from what I understand is that since the Groom is having such fortune, there are evil spirits that want to ruin that so it is a good omen to have a little boy to distract the spirits. I am not too sure about this one, it was really loud when I was hearing the explanation.

So the grooms family and friends get in side of this tunnel that the band has created and dance all the way down the street for a couple of hours to to reception place where the brides family is. The Grooms' family is supposed to be happy and dancing because he is getting the bride and the Bride and her party are supposed to be sad. I think I left at 11:30 and the ceremonies had just started. They were going to be officially married at 1:00 in the morning and only the close family stays for that. Everyone else just comes, dances, eats and leaves. Also, a lot of people don't eat meat on Tuesdays because of their religion, so it was all veg food.

One thing that the girls were trying to explain to me is that there is a crying ceremony where the girl officially leaves her family and becomes part of the Groom's family. I was asking if it is a love match, then is there still this part and they said yes. That they are supposed to be sad to be leaving your family even if you are really happy to be with your husband. One girl who was a love match said that she was really happy and her family was telling her that she had to cry, to show that she was going to miss them. It is all so interesting to me.

I don't know exactly all what I thought about it. I was trying to pick up some of the indian dance moves, and I just felt like a fool. Everyone was again looking at me because I was the only white person at the wedding. The only one. So anytime I tried something new they were all like, "Oh, look at the cute little white girl trying to dance Bollywood. Oh, look at the white girl trying new foods. Oh, look at the white girl wearing a Sari."

Ok...we know I really liked it, and I loved seeing everyone all dressed up and I hope that I get to go to another one again before I leave.

Me and Sandesha. She helped me get dressed before the wedding.

The Grooms Party dancing up a storm

Sabby on his horse before entering the main building.

The Day to Day Delhi

2009-08-29T23:31:00.000+05:30

I am still not too comfortable taking out my camera and being a tourist, so over time I will be collecting more of the Real Delhi photos. Some day I will have the courage to snap a photo of the construction men by my house who stack bricks on their heads to carry them up 4 flights, and someday I will capture the 4 person family piled onto a motorbike wearing colorful saris and dangling scarves and someday I will capture the life of the people living in shanties on the side of the road, but for now - here are the markets and the traffic.

This is my street from my balcony

Not the best shot, but these women are always side-saddle and I fear that they are going to fall

The view from inside a rickshaw of other auto rickshaws

The Kahn Market

(it is still early on the weekend that is why there aren't many people)

2009-08-29T22:19:00.001+05:30

A bush shaped like an Elephant - can't wait to see a real one

This is a Mosque in the Lodi Gardens that I saw on my walking tour

In the Muslim Religion it is not allowed to use people or animals in sculpture so all of the detail is written script.

Just a little Yoga in the Park

Another mosque in Lodi Gardens

I think that the guard is pointing at me. This is at the Prime Ministers place

This Principal had Some Bling Bling

2009-08-29T21:37:00.000+05:30

I am trying to learn more about the business from all aspects so I can completely understand the audience that we are working with, so I am jumping right in. I went on my first school visit this week. I accompanied one of the Tour Consultant here to meet with the Principal. The school that we went to has seen a lot of visitors and there is a very good reason for that - they were our first school to sign on to travel with us when we started. The K.R.Mangalam world school.

From what I have learned we used to travel with this school, and then a new principal has come in. Even though she is coming from another school that also traveled with us, it is just like starting from scratch. It normally takes a lot of time to get a visit with the Principal but we have contacts with the management so things went quicker. You see, the thing that is so different about the school systems here are that they are run like businesses. There is an owner, and management, and then the Principal who sometimes is on the Board, but there are all of these stakeholders who have a say in everything that happens in the school...especially something like kids traveling abroad.

So the Principal is pretty high up. He or in this case she is like a VP who makes the decision to either move forward or propose the trip to management. So we arrive at the school which is gated in, and sign in with the guards. We go in and hand in another sign in slip to the receptionist who keeps us waiting for about 15-20 minutes because the principal is eating her breakfast. When she is finished we are called in. I am introduced as a manager, the flattery begins and then we get down to business...I think. There are tons of tours and dates thrown around, no real firm numbers and then tea and cookies are served. We discuss a little further, some push-back, swine flu concerns, and some more tour talk.

Everyone here talks really quickly and I still struggle to follow conversation at times let alone jump in, so I was definitely an observer. What I noticed is there is this air of superiority that is around the Principal. You can be a little direct, but that comes more with time and the relationship. Also, you seem to have to keep talking, because if there is any break in the convo, the principal may decide that she is two busy and cut you off. She seemed exhausted, but didn't really seem to be doing anything, and she had a ton of Bling! She had a diamond solitaire bracelet and two huge diamond rings; one on each hand. They were huge and I found myself distracted and blinded by the light reflecting off of them.

Needless to say we left the meeting and I was a confused with what the decision had been made so I think I have a lot to learn and a lot to teach. I am excited to go to more meetings and start to compare, but I have heard that the Delhi schools are a little more pretentious than other regions. A few more weeks and I think I will be traveling to schools in other regions of India...so cool!

What is it Worth to You

2009-08-26T21:13:00.000+05:30

I was going to go to bed early and actually try and catch up on some sleep, but I am just so frustrated right now. I feel like there are so many excuses and haggling and guilt involved with everything. I was just laughing in the last log about how I thought it was funny that I am charged double for everything, but today I had a really awful auto rickshaw driver who caused me to walk in circles around my house talking to myself.

I decided to go to a market after work to go shopping for a light blanket for my bed to make my empty room feel more like home. It is big which is great, but really empty and there is nothing on the walls. So I ventured out to the GK1 Nblock market where I knew of a large Fabindia that had blankets, sheets and pillows of every color shape and size. I tricked Alex into coming with me to shop, poor kid, but we got an rickshaw from our neighborhood to the market for 40 rupees. The thing is - you never really know how much something should cost, and neither do they so it is all about who is going to be more believable in the when it comes down to the bluff. That's why you have to negotiate everything before you step a foot into the rickshaw.

For the 40 rupees we drove pretty far, got stuck in late rush hour traffic, and he took us to the wrong market. Can you believe that after a week I knew enough to tell the difference between the GK1 Nblock market and the GK2 Mblock market :) Yeah that's right, I know I am good! He took the money and never asked for more. On my way home it was dark and Alex was heading out to meet up with a friend. I still looked like a tourist, and I now had three shopping bags with me. I asked how much it was going to cost to get to Sarvapriya Vihar where I live and he said 70 rupees. I responded with 40 he said no, I asked if he could do better and he repeated 70. I said no and walked away hoping that he would call for me to come back for a lower price. That's usually how I have been working it, but he didn't so I headed for the main road. I found another guy and he told me 60. I again said 40, telling him that is what I got here for. He said no. I asked 50 because at this point I was tired, it was dark and I had all my bags with me He told me to jump in.

It was all fine and dandy riding home until we started to get close to where I live. He was telling me that 50 rupees is a really good price. He said that is what he takes Indians home for, so the 60 that he was asking for was not a bad price for me. Here I am thinking that he is trying to show me his true colors and how he was a good man. One who is fair and isn't overcharging me just because the color of my skin, and then he starts talking more about the money and how I should give him 10 more rupees and it was a mistake to take me for the 50. I was not at my house but close enough, so I told him to pull over so I could walk the rest of the way. I handed him the 50 and got out. He counted it quickly, looked at me and rudely said, "really not 10 more, you were a mistake! A mistake! Ah, all the way for a mistake." This all happened quickly and I really think that in this guilty ridden head shake and eye contact he was thinking that this was going to make me give him more money. So I walked away mumbling "a mistake, what a jerk! I am not a mistake!"

I have a built in guilty conscious as it is. I am very literal and when I say I am going to be somewhere I am there and if I feel guilty it is usually for a good reason... because I let someone down or I could have done a better job. But here I am paying the pre-negotiated price, which is still over priced I am sure and he tries to make me feel bad. Boo on him.

I get so frustrated that people are trying to make me pay more, but in the grand scheme of things, what they are charging me is still so inexpensive that I can understand why they do it. But it is a pride thing. I feel that I should be charged the same amount as an Indian. There are some indians out there making just as much as I am these days. I also do know that a few cents or dollars from me can add up and make a significant difference in their lives. Knowing this if I find a driver who is willing to take me for less, I tend to give them an extra 5 or 10 rupees. I don't know why I do it, I guess I feel like I should positively reinforce the nice drivers and punish the rude ones. It was the same when I was swiping cards at the Terraces Dinning Hall in Ithaca. I held the power to let you by without a card on those rainy days when you left it at home, or make you turn home and get it while all of your buddies enjoyed their meals. It was the ones that knew that they should go back but were secretly hoping that you wouldn't make them that I let in and the better than thou who I rejected

I guess a few cents here and there doesn't make a huge difference and what it all comes down to is how much is the hassle worth. I am choosing my battles. If it is late and dark, raining, really hot, or I have a lot of stuff with me does it really matter if I am getting ripped off? This was only day two of taking a rickshaw to work so I will give you my answer in a few weeks. I still have many more bumpy rides in my future.

Even if you are a Celebrity you don't get a Deal

2009-08-23T21:44:00.000+05:30

What a day! I tell you, just as I think I am getting used to things India throws something new at me. It's really exciting and humorous. This weekend I went sightseeing with Alison and the new flatmates. I was able to see a different part of Delhi. I nicer area, the more touristy - a Washington DC type place. Really. The India gate is kind of like the Mall in Washington DC. It is a long area that is lined with trees leading up to the Prime Ministers place. We drove all around with Alison's driver KK jumping in and out of the car and taking pictures. We then went to the Lotus Temple which is so beautiful! It is a Ba'hai temple that is formed into the shape of a lotus flower. Architecture genius! It is a place where all religions can pray and even though it is a major touristy site, most of the people there were Indian and they were coming to sit. The ushers do a great job at keeping the place silent as to not disturb the communication with God.

We next went to a mall. When Alison told me we were going to a mall, all I could think about was a bigger market, crazy and swarming with people, but surprisingly it was like a huge US mall. I felt like I was in the US, or at least in Europe. It was well lit, clean and just like any mall in America. The locals there dressed more western. I saw shorts and skirts above the knees, and then of course still very traditional saris. But a lot of t-shirts and jeans. I felt right at home. Ha! Consumerist America, and the stereotype continues :)

We went to eat at an Italian place at the mall. It was all Indians no foreigners and supposidly children are allowed to do anything that they want without discipline. They were yelling and running around the resturant and yelling across the room and yelling at the servers. It was insane. Then I thought back to my worst plane flight ever - on my way to the Roman Holiday Convention. Paul and Kaitlin know exactly what I am talking about. I thought I was super lucky because I was on the aisle of the center 4 seat rows so I popped a sleeping pill and passed out only to be awoken by a flight attendant moving an Indian woman and her screaming 2 year old right next to me. Frustrated, I let them in and fall back asleep. Moments later I wake up to the child whacking me on the arm and yelling. The girl continued to hit me and throw her food at me for a half an hour before I gave the mom a death stare that caused her switch seats with her daughter. The girl instantly started banging on the mans computer next to her. It continued like this switching the girl back and forth for the next 7 hours while everyone except for me slept as normal until we landed and the little brat passed out in time for her mom to carry her off the plane. I tell you, I love kids and I am patient, but I have never wanted to kick a little kid so much in my life. I am not a bad person, I was just over tired.

So after the mall and realizing that there are places that I can get the stuff that I need even if it wasn't too convenient I felt much better. I now know that they sell Pantene for when I run out. Funny thing about hair products. They have this thing called No-Fall Shampoo. I was asking about what this was because I kept seeing adds for it, and as it turns out the water is so polluted here that your hair falls out much easier. So this shampoo was to make your hair stronger or protected or something. I think I need to invest in some of that, or you may have a very bald friend coming home in a year.

After that long adventure I was pooped and finally felt like I could go to bed at a normal hour. I have been going to sleep after 1 and waking up at 7:30 each morning for work. After the long flight and not napping, I was all messed up and wanted to take advantage of the exhaustion.

Today I woke up early to go on a Heritage tour walk with Alison. This group has 5 walking tours in different parts of Delhi and you go around with a tour guide for 50 INR for a couple of hours and they teach you about the site. I had invited Joel from the plane and he meet us at the Lodi Gardens at 7 am. While we were waiting I was chewed to bits by the bugs. Chad - I forgot my bug spray, but after the 800 Marlia threatening bites this morning I bought some this afternoon. The tour was so interesting. We walked into all of these Temples and Mosques and we was teaching us about how people are buried in the Mosques with their heads north to south so that when they turn the head the person is buried always facing west toward Mecca. So cool. Also the western wall is always different from the rest by some little structure or a blocked up archway or something. A Mosque can be many things. Even just a wall built on the West side can be an outdoor mosque for people to pray. I am definitely going to do more of those tours. You find out more from locals than just reading the few plaques.

Next we met up with a friend of Alison's in Khan Markets. I have now been to a bunch and I am learning where has the best fruit and where I can find milk, veggies, and I found Kraft Mac and Cheese. It was so expensive to buy, but I had to! Sunil, the company driver came and picked us up, and then helped me move into MY NEW PLACE! I am so excited. This is my first night sleeping here! Whoooo!

I unpacked some things and then headed out to Delhi center to an old fortress with Alex to meet up with Saabria. She told us the address and said that it was going to be 60 rupees to get there. Of course the rickshas drivers see two blonde, pale, blue eyed people and they charge us double to three times as much. If you are a tourist and if you are as pale as we are and traveling in groups you have no chance. So 100 rupees later Alex and I finally reached Saabria only to be encounter with the next disadvantage...admission. The sign says Indians - 5 INR, Others - 100 INR. No arguing we pay and go in and this is when the craziness started happening...

When Alison and I went to the Lotus temple, I noticed that people weren't only staring, but there were also couples coming up to us and saying "Hi" and trying to have a conversation with us. On the way out we passed a line of school children that without hesitation each said hello until it all blended into one sing song celebration of the people who looked different. Luckily the kids were cute and I left feeling very flattered. When I met up with Alex and Saabria I was telling them all about this happening thinking it was a one off until the fort. I don't know what it was - maybe both me and Alex together. He is bleach blonde and paler than I am, but everyone wanted to take our picture or have us pose with their daughters. It wasn't just me. Guys would come up to Alex and ask for him to pose with them. They would shake his hand and then shoot a quick picture with their cell phones. I thought that is was funny, but then I started getting self conscious...do I really look that strange? Little girls riding by on motos would point and start until I was out of sight.

picture of Alex and I with a random Indian in the middle.

Laughing Saabria asked if we wanted to try this restaurant that she has been to that is known for their kebabs. We both agreed and started walking. She turns to us when we were almost to the street and said, "brace yourself because this might be kind of intense." We turn down a street that is in the Muslim section of town. The street is so crowded and it was definitley the poorest spot that I have seen so far. Tons of old beggars and little kids yelling and following you down the street. Again, everyone was staring even more than before and we were rubbing shoulders with everyone that we passed. It was so dirty and there were stray dogs and goats amongst all of the craziness (but that is normal of all of Delhi, not just this area). We turned into the restaurant and I walked it. Literally it was like out of a movie. Everyone in the restaurant stopped talking and looked at Alex and me until we sat down and things went back to normal. As we looked around no one had food and there was only one really stressed out disgruntled worker in the whole restaurant. Saabria speaking Hindi told us that we came at the time of prayer and all of the other servers and cooks were praying and would be back soon so he would take our order and we would be served when they returned.

It was actually quicker than we anticipated. Today was a total lesson in culture. She was teaching us that in this restaurant that we should eat with our hands. Alex and I were laughing as she taught us to scoop rice the right way in our fingers and how to use our thumbs to push it into our mouths. There was food all over. She then looked at us as we were digging in carnivorous style and then told us that we should only use on hand. Never our left. It is very rude to eat with your left because most Indian use their left hand to clean themselves. You should just leave that hand on your chair. She said that you should also never hand money to someone or shake hands with your left hand. Alex of course then asked…”so what if you are left handed?” You are screwed.

Alex and I tried to get an auto rickshaw home…$120 rupees. Saabria then got one for $60 INR so we hopped in and went home.

Green and Blue

2009-08-21T22:17:00.000+05:30

Green and Blue, those are the colors of the walls in the EF building. I really like the building and the funny thing is that is where I feel the most comfortable and like at-home. I am starting to work on different trainings and projects and it is good to feel like I am not just waiting around. There was no real rush to get to work on Monday after I landed, but I thought that I should just throw myself into it instead of sitting around inside my room worrying about my first day. The funny thing is that I was really nervous to get dressed. I didn't want the other kids to make fun of me.

It is strange to be new again :) I was talking to a Kim and Eleacia at work before I left about a blog that we found where the guy referred to rise and repeat. I really liked the idea. It was referring to the fact that we are constantly moving through stages where we enter in not knowing anything about anything, then we get comfortable, confident, and then we rule, only to be moved to another stage where we are at the bottom of the food chain again. Take High School for instance. You enter in an awkward gangly teenager, okay maybe just me, and over time you find your grounding until you are a senior ruling the halls, only to be knocked down one more time when you enter college and have to start all over again, and this time without your parents. Just picture me...and awkward white girl who can't find her office and doesn't know where she is at any time. Okay, I am exaggerating - but you get my point. Even after completing my first week at work I am already feeling great! but mostly just exhausted.

I went shopping today in one of the markets and it was really nice. There was a fabric store there and I bought two pillow cases. Everything there is so beautiful and brightly colored. I wanted to get sheets and a light blanket for my bed, but I didn't take the measurements and didn't want to buy the wrong size. I don't know what India's return policies are. Anyway it gives me more time to decide between a hot pink and orange scheme - sounds gross, but it is really pretty; orange and yellow or yellow and green. Any votes? There were also these shoe stores and clothing stores. I am just so drawn to the bright colors that the women wear. I keep telling Alison that if she comes back in a year from now she is going to find me all dressed up in traditional neon clothes. I am going to have to make the girls in the office take me shopping. I can't wait!

So back to the office, I spent the first week adjusting to the office atmosphere, and meeting with all of the different teams. There are two teams. A north and a south, and each of those team are divided into two smaller teams with one person doing the Alpha position. Twelve in total. It is an open floor plan just like Boston and when everyone is talking - man it is loud. I like it the best when it is that way because it reminds me of home. It has been great so far and everyone has been really welcoming. There have been so many sweets and celebrations that I am stuffed before lunch comes around. It was one guy's birthday, one guy just had a baby and another one is getting married soon. Every time there is good news there are treats passed around by that person for the celebration.

Speaking of celebrations, before I left for India Rachel was telling me all about this Indian wedding that she is in the bridal party for and how they are so much fun and a week long celebration and if I can get invited to one while I am here that I should really try to...well it is week one and I have already been invited to a wedding. I know that I just fell into that, but man am I excited. For those of you whom the idea of inviting a stranger to your wedding is strange - I didn't get it at first either. I am quickly learning that you invite family, friends, colleagues and more. There are about 700-1000 people at the wedding all having a grand ole time and partying. I could be completely wrong, but that what I think I am going to at this point :) Looks like I will also get to wear that Sari that I bought for the holiday party one more time! Yes!

I Am Going To Be Helpless When I Get Home

2009-08-20T00:45:00.000+05:30

I got a new apartment today! I met with two roommates today at a place that is close enough to potentially walk to work and at the least take an auto-rickshaw. I had to basically interview with the landlady after the two roommates decided that they wanted me to live with them, then "sign a lease." Which meant writing on a notebook that I wanted to live there. I will sign a real official lease in a month or two when it is drafted up. It was a little strange, but I think that she will also be responsible and fix anything that might break. I am going to be living with one Finnish guy who works at the Embassy and one Indian girl who lived in Boston for a year and went to Mt. Holyoke. Not too shabby. I really hope that we all get along, but the place is huge so we should have plenty of room and I am upstairs so if there are people over it should be relatively quite. Worse case scenario, I give my 2 month notice and I am a free woman.

The house is two floors, and there is also a part that is floor number 1.5. The kitchen overlooks the living room. There is a front balcony and my room and the other girl that lives upstairs with me both have our own private back decks off our rooms. We have a washing machine which is rare - most people just have a maid. Yes, I also have a maid and if we want we can hire a cook, still not decided on that. I am going to be moving into the apartment this weekend and I pick up my keys tomorrow.

So besides the maid and the cook and the driver, everyone comes to you. I spilled my coffee on my desk today...okay, I really dribbled it out of my mouth. No big tragedy and I didn't think any one saw. I was looking around for a napkin or something to clean and within literally less than a minute there was someone standing next to me handing me a paper towel.

Also, yesterday when someone was asking about my bank account I told them that I was going to go and open one in the afternoon. The accounting guy quickly told me that the bank would be coming to the office to set up my account and I shouldn't worry about going to lunch because he will come and just wait until I am around.

It is just a different world and I am learning quickly that when my TC's say that the customer is always right they mean it! They have to treat the customer like they are gods are we are so lucky that we have their service.

There will be more about the office and the job soon. Don't you worry.

Oh, and Julie - I have had curry two out of the three days so far :)

Go Easy on Yourself

2009-08-18T23:05:00.000+05:30

Toady is my second day in India but already I am feeling much more comfortable. I am not going to lie, when the plane started it's final descent and I could see the sprawling lights of Delhi below me, my heart started to race and i think that I had a mild anxiety attack. I couldn't believe that I was actually moving to a place, that most people don't even want to visit and I was going to be there for the next year.

I had had my expectations set by anyone and everyone that I have talked to before coming here and I think that I had a good idea of what the next year was going to be, but still I hadn't seen it for myself and I was nervous.

When I got off the plane I was a mixture of excitement and jitters. Not to mention that I had also chosen not to sleep the 29 hours so that I could be exhausted when I arrived at the planned 11:00 pm arrival time in Delhi and better adjust to the jet lag. Arriving at almost at 1:00 my bags came out unexpectedly quick. The next challenge was to find Satya who I have never met and never got around to looking up a picture of him at work...oooops. When I didn't see him or a sign saying Quinnen or EF or anything of the sort, my overtired nervous body started to panic. My phone didn't work and I didn't have his phone number even if it did. Upon this panic I my inner tour consultant reminded myself that I have dealt with much worse and I was probably just standing in the wrong spot. So I looked around, spotted a sliding glass door with tons of men holding signs. I walked through, still didn't see Satya or anyone who recognized me until some guy came up to me and told me that I should go with him. It was Satya's driver and he led me to Satya. Few.

I I had my first experience with the Driver. He brought in all of my luggage and it was a little awkward. I just wanted to carry my own stuff in or at least hellp him. When I started to Satya said, “don’t worry, he will take care of it.” Not in a rude way, just as is. He entered the house when Satya was showing me around only to bring in my bags and then he just waited until Satya was finished and they left.

The drive here didn’t scare me as much as I thought that it was going to…but don't get me wrong, it is still insane. There are no lines an everyone is honking every second. Since there are no rules that i have experienced yet, except honk when you pass so the other person doesn't hit you it becomes loud and chaotic. I would take a picture, but it just does not capture the feeling that you are always going to crash. Good thing that I am not an anxious passenger. There were times when the car next to you in only one or two inches away and there are so many people riding side saddle on bikes. Some of the motorcycles are carrying 4 people and babies with no helmets. Either we are uptight or they just don't care.

For the last couple days I have been staying on the bottom floor in the suit room of the Canadian guesthouse. It is a living room and bed room with a shared kitchen. The bathroom didn't have any TP. Luckily Satya thought ahead and brought some for me. No shower curtains and the power goes out multiple times per day. I kid you not, that while I am writing this the power just went out. Looks like I am finishing the rest of this in the dark with the light of my laptop (Which I love! Thanks Jack for getting it set up!). The guy who owns it is super nice. He is a very large Indian guy who lived in Canada and then opened up this place when he moved back here. Since the room is right on the street I wake up to the stray dogs barking and fighting, the honking of the cars and the calling to the fruit vendors that walk up and down the road. Where I am staying is close to work and is supposed to be somewhat of an upscale area, but upscale here is not the same as upscale at home. It is clean and safe and that is all that I need, but I really think that the standards here are much different than those back home.

Oh and I forgot to mention, there is a creepy dude with a big fro on my walls. There are two huge pictures as if one 2'x3' foot frame is not big enough. He stares at me every morning and every night. I am told he is a Guru. :)

I am starting to get brave. I use the water in the sink to brush my teeth, then rinse once with bottled water. I have to ease into things you know...I hope that I don’t get sick.

The day I arrived I was completely overwhelmed. I still am a little timid to walk outside by myself. I was getting so angry with myself because my normal confident, independent, strong personality flew right out the window when I landed on that plane. I have never been so aware of how white I am. Everyone stares at me, and on top of that most of the people outside are men. There are men just sitting on the side or the road or piled in cars and they just stare. It is intimidating to say the least.

Alison has been great. She picks me up with her driver every morning before work until I get situated, and she took me food shopping at the market yesterday. Again, there are just so many people! I walk into the smallest market. One that is smaller than the room that I am sitting in right now and there were at least 8 men working three in front of the counter blocking the shelves and 5 behind. One bagged the groceries, one took my money, one calculated the cost and the other one handed the money to the one at the register to get me change.

I wonder how long it is going to take to stop noticing the differences and to feel comfortable. I have to keep reminding myself that it has only been two days and that I have plenty of time to acclimate and it is okay that I am not there yet.

A Little Good PR

2009-08-17T22:51:00.000+05:30

British Airways is my new favorite airline. Why you ask? It's because I went all the way from Boston to Delhi, a long flight that could have been a terrible disaster smoothly without any hiccups. They happened to sit me next to the only other person on the first leg who was going all the way through London to Delhi, and of course she became my friend. Annie and I were able to talk the whole time and she gave me sage advice on my time in Delhi. More than anything it was just great to talk to someone who has been there before.

Secondly, I had those little TV's on the back of my seat...i have never had one of those in all of my international flights. Can you believe that! The head supports were so great they blew my neck support out the window. I was sat in the second to last row, which only had two seats in the row and tons of extra leg room.

Then Annie and I relaxed in the airport cafe until our next flight that again was very smooth. The flight wasn't full so there was an extra seat in between my neighbor and me a British guy Joel. He was going to be in Delhi for two weeks doing some research for his engineering degree. I felt much better after meeting both Joel and Annie.

Although I got in almost an hour late because of a delayed leg in London because of Engine failures...the engine did not fail on the flight, and all was well. The only other strange thing was that upon landing in Delhi they walked up and down the aisles fumigating the cabins. I couldn't hear well enough to understand why. First of many strange things to come that I will never understand :)

The Next Step

2009-08-17T21:45:00.000+05:30

I have been working at EF Education for the last 3.5 years enjoying work, but really wondering what was going to be the next step in my life.

Years ago while corresponding with Julie Keech through the good ole' fashioned snail mail we both sent each other our 10 year plans. Not necessarily the place that we wanted to be in 10 years, but things that we wanted to accomplish by the time we were 32 (10 years after college). One thing, and probably the only thing that I remember besides owning and not killing a bonsai, was to live in another country for a year. Each day this dream was nagging me because I hadn't yet figured out how I was going to check this off my big life to-do list.

Enter Wednesday, June 18th 2009 when Shane pulled me into his office and said that Cristina asked him to find out if I would be interested in moving to India. "YES!" Shocked at my lack of hesitation he responded with "really?" I told him that I definitely wanted to think it over and talk to people in my life, but I was really excited about the opportunity. I don't know what he was expecting, but I don't think that is was that.

By Monday I said that I wanted to move forward and on Tuesday I was on the phone with India. For two hours we talked about the position and the culture so that I could learn more and make a wise decision. I met with Chad and talked to friends what had been there and I was getting more and more excited about living in India while still training and managing staff.

I left for vacation in Cali, road tripped for three weeks, interviewed with Raj and then officially accepted the position of the ET India Sales Training Manager. This left me with 2.5 weeks to see friends and family and cax my boston life. Not any easy process and I don't recommend it. During that time I ran around with my head cut off trying to make sure that I had really taken care of everything that needed to be done before I left.

Sorry to everyone that I didn't get a chance to say goodbye to and those of you who helped me get to my flight on time.