Mama for a Week

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:

• 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

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.

J

Thank Goodness for Mohit and Amisha!

Who needs Delhi when I could stay in Meerut

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

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

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