Old DelhiBycycle

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

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

Totally American

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Read more, Watch fewer Movies

The Abnormal is Normal

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

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

“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

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

20°C | °F

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

26°C | 14°C

The Hog’s Ride

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?

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!

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

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

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