A Part-time Lady of Leisure and Sir Wishing You a Very Happy Holiday Season

Couldn't post yesterday...I was out getting a job. Teaching? No. I'm going to be a marketing "director." "But you have no marketing experience!" I know. But it's true.

Vivian's husband Liam works for a company that organizes conferences that would be of interest to executives in a variety of fields. He heads the marketing department and has mentioned, on more than one occasion, that he's had a difficult time finding people who can do anything other than take orders and complete a specific task. He needs people who can "think outside the box." On a number of these occasions, he has asked if I've been bored or would be looking to do something maybe part time. I've been very up front with him, telling him I have zero marketing experience and I haven't been all that bored. But I have told him I've been doing a good bit of blogging and would be interested in doing some writing but not really "marketing." At dinner last week, after he brought up the subject again, I said that I would maybe be interested in hearing more about what he thought I could do. So yesterday I went to meet with him.

He works within walking distance of our place so I walked over at 11 and was told to go to the 3rd floor. When I got to the top of the stairs, there was a door that required a card to open. There was glass on either side of the door and I could see rows of tables with barely any space between the computers on top. There were as many people sitting in chairs as there were people walking around or standing together. Everyone looked very busy and I was sure as soon as the door opened, the tiny lobby would be filled with ringing phones, the tapping of keyboards and loud voices discussing important business. An Indian gentleman got out of the elevator at about the same time I started attracting attention by staring through the glass and opened the door. I followed him and it was like there was a blip in the matrix, everything stopped, all heads turned to me. I said to no one in particular, "I'm looking for Liam." It was then that I realized I don't even know Liam's last name. One women with a terribly drab yellowish, brown sari that blended in with the walls said, "He's on the 4th floor."

I started up another flight of stairs and felt a cool breeze. I was walking up to the roof of the building. Convinced that I had heard the women incorrectly, I got to the top and was in fact outside. But to my left there was another door, identical to the one on the 3rd floor (including the scene behind the door). Another man had followed me up and let himself inside. Again, I followed and again, all heads turned to look but I noticed one of them to be Liam's brother who I've met before. I said hello and told him I was looking for Liam. He said I could wait in Liam's "office" and he'd go get him.

I waited in a small room with a table with one chair on one side and two chairs on the other and a phone. It smelled like mold and there were windows that ran the length of two sides of the walls so that you could see out into the office but not onto the roof of the building. The tables in the room outside Liam's office were in long rows and there was nearly no space between people's computers so that you either had to balance your bag on your monitor or beneath your feet. Liam came in a few minutes later, apologized for the smell but said his office leaks and so he doesn't spend much time there. He apologized for the dilapidated look of the office but said they have been growing faster than they can keep up so they did away with cubes and typical India, just decided to build a leaky room on top of the building to create another office instead of really expanding to a bigger building.

The short story is that his team is responsible for researching companies that would be interested in their events, calling those companies and getting the email addresses of the most senior people at the companies (by whatever means necessary including creating a better "story" about where they are calling from and why they need email addresses), then sending them emails and calling them to try to get them to attend. I asked why an executive would want to come and he said, "Well, I reckon they just want a couple of days off in an exotic location." But the idea is that it provides them a place to network and hear about the latest innovations in their particular field. They make it particularly attractive by holding the conferences in places like Monaco, Singapore, Sydney, Prague, etc.

What he wants me to do is come up with the content for the emails to get the executives to either visit the company's website or ideally, sign up to attend. He said they have a pretty generic template that they've been using but he would like to have something a little more flashy and unique to certain industries. He started talking about other things I could do if I liked it but I kind of stopped him there and said I would first like to try it and see how it goes. He very much understood my position and said that I should not have any hesitation to come to him in a couple of months and tell him it's not really for me. He's also going to let me start out just two days a week. He kept reiterating that I would be doing him a favor and any help would be great but at any time I should feel free to walk away.

He is supposed to get back to me today about how much he can pay and how I can get paid. It's not a business I think I'd really want to be in for years but I think it'll be fun to just try something totally different. I'm not sure spamming executives is something I'll love but when will I ever have the opportunity to work 2 days a week, trying something with no prior experience and with the option to just leave if I don't like with no real consequences? I start Jan. 16.

We went out to dinner with some of Sir's team last night. There were five of us (and I will butcher their names), Anirban (Ah-ner-bahn), Maaha (Ma-ha), and Ujwalla (Ooj-walla). They were all very nice and were surprised that George and I have been enjoying the Indian food. They seemed to really like Sir and happy is here and I could see why he likes them. They were easy to talk to and seemed like they all get along well together. It was alot of work talk but it was good to get to put some faces to names I've been hearing about. At the end of the night, George had bought them each a book and Maaha turned to me and said she had something. She gave us an Indian drawing. How nice is she? Oh, and this time it was Sir and I who were the giants. We were sitting when they arrived and I knew they were short but it wasn't until we were all in the elevator that I realized how short they were. George and I were like NBA players standing next to horse jockeys.

Tomorrow I'm going to go to tea to say bye to the ladies then it's home to pack and clean out the place so we don't have unexpected "guests" when we return. Then it's off to the Leela Palace where Air France has a lounge we can use until it's time to take off. So I think this is it for 2007. Last blog until we return. Thanks for reading (even if you haven't commented).







Merry Christmas. Happy Chanukkah. Happy Holidays. Seasons Greetings. Wishing you all the best for a happy, healthy new year. Peace on Earth. Come back and visit in early Jan.

Love - Sir and Ma'am

Water, Water Everywhere...

The plumber did finally show up on Friday at about 5:15 only to find that the maid-boy had gone out and purchased the wrong part. I got John Paul on the phone again and he spoke to the plumber. John Paul said that he would send someone back Saturday morning but at that point I'd had it. Near tears, I told John Paul he needed to send someone immediately. (The plumber would be off duty at 6.) He agreed but I still wasn't holding out much hope. Perhaps I did sound as desperate as I was hoping because around 6:30, the maid-boy and two friends appeared with a new part and the know-how to fix it themselves. By 7, they were taking turns to see who could fit out the kitchen window and bend around the corner to turn the water back on and by 7:10, the brown water that first choked out had turned clear again. Delicious Indian tap water.

I've done a load of laundry and seems all is fixed.

Not that it really mattered in the end since we didn't really use the faucet much this weekend. Saturday we got a few groceries, attempted to go to the cell phone store but waited in an absurdly long line for 5 minutes before realizing the line was not moving and walked out, and watched as the Indians took turns taking pictures of themselves in front of the giant Christmas tree at the mall. Not a branch was left empty as mere specks of green poked out from the abundant silver and red bells, balls and bows. In the past week, more and more Christmas decorations have been spotted all around Bangalore making me wonder if the commercialization of the Baby Jesus' birthday has now reached this predominantly Hindu country. What would Lord Brahma say?

Saturday night we went to a pot luck dinner at our South African friend’s place. We knew it might take a while to get there but after crawling through a traffic jam at every corner and getting lost about 1 kilometer from their apartment, we finally made it. Chandan got directions from Adele, her driver, random rickshaw drivers and shop owners and everyone seemed to be giving him different directions. But we almost two hours after our journey began, we arrived and had a lovely time with about 15 other guests eating salads, kebabs, cupcakes and drinks. It was the usual UN mix of South Africans, Aussies, Germans, Scandinavians, Singaporeans and one certified giant. His name was Ingo and he had to be at least 6’6” and almost 300 pounds. He was completely bald and I’m pretty sure he didn’t shake my hand for fear he might crush it.

Then it was off to brunch on Sunday that started at 1 and lasted nearly until 8. Vanessa had organized pretty much the same group (give or take a few couples) from Saturday night to meet at one of the many restaurants that serves a full brunch buffet inclusive of drinks for a set price. The attentive staff is eager to make sure that both plates and glasses are never more than half empty (which is why almost all the tables that were there at 1, like ours, were still there past 6 pm)

Oh and we finally found a sushi place...actually I should say, we found a Japanese restaurant that serves some sushi. The clientele was entirely Japanese/Asian (aside from ourselves) so we think we got an authentic experience. I had fish for the first time and it was delicious. We had a couple of sushi rolls but played it pretty safe. They import everything from the fish to the rice but it is worth it. And we had read somewhere that it took a couple of months to train the mostly Indian staff because the owner wanted to be sure they were familiar not only with all the dishes but also typical Japanese customs and greetings. I think it’s Sir’s new favorite restaurant.

Hopefully we'll survive the next three days without any major plumbing, electrical, house keeping or other uniquely Indian issues.

Plumber Watch '07 Continues

I'm trying to have a relaxing day with tea, my book and a face mask while I wait ever so patiently for water in the kitchen. I'm going to keep this brief thinking that you can all fill in the blanks by now.

9:00 - I call maintenance speak to a man who asks me what the problem is. We go over everything again.

10:10 - The same plumber who was here yesterday arrives with an older gentleman who speaks English and appears to be his superior. Despite having come with the same plumber who was hear yesterday to assess the problem, the superior asks me what the problem is. He tells me that his people can only fix "existing issues" (I think that's the phrase he used). Meaning if a drain is clogged they will clear it out but if it's anything that requires replacement of parts, buying of new equipment, etc., we are to call our "service provider." I take this to mean John Paul and he asks me to call him. I dial and hand the phone over. They start speaking in Kannada and after a brief, calm conversation, the man says, "he is going to get the new part and bring it here. Then you give us a call and we will install it."

10:14 - The plumber men leave me without water thinking "wasn't this all worked out yesterday?" Or, if not, why wasn't this all worked out yesterday when the maid spoke to the very same plumber who was standing in front of me.

10:20 - I call John Paul and he tells me his guys will be here in 20 minutes and take care of everything.

11:30 - I send John Paul a note telling him I have to leave at noon. Where are his guys?

12:00 - Haven't heard back from John Paul but leave to get fresh mozzarella cheese for a party we are going to tomorrow. The only place to get it is at a restaurant fairly close to here and I am pretty sure I can be back by 12:30.

12:25 - I return and the kitchen light is on. I never leave that light on because it is an awful fluorescent light I hate. It sort of looks picked up, the trash has been emptied. No one is inside.

12:30 - The maid tries to walk in but I've used the inside lock. He says he had to make a phone call, I think. He spends the next 5 minutes on the phone. Says some other things about a "part...fix...2" all with a smile. He hangs up the phone and says he'll come back.

12:37 - The maid leaves.

1:00 - He's back with the knob to the faucet and two small boxes in his hand. These are the new parts. He says that the plumber will be here at 2 to install. He tells me, "no pay."

1:05 - He leaves again.

2:15 - I call maintenance and speak to a women who of course has no idea why flat B204 would be calling. I tell her to send the plumber all the appropriate parts are here waiting for him. She tells me she will send him right over.

3:00 - I put on my face mask and wait. Some more.

3:20 - I call again. Have to explain why I am calling. Am told the plumber will come in half an hour.

Enjoy your weekend with your fancy kitchen sinks with running cold and hot water.

We have a busy weekend of holiday parties and brunches so we can't really complain too much.

One week from today we'll be leaving Frustration Station

We've learned to live without hot water in the kitchen or for our laundry, I supposed we can live without any water in the kitchen.

9 AM came and went very quietly as I read the paper with my cup of tea. Did I really expect the plumber to show at 9? Not really. But I thought maybe by 10 seeing as both the maid-boy and I forcefully said 9AM.

The maid-girl showed up at 10 and I told her that she would have to use water from the bathroom to clean today because the water was turned off. But none of that made sense until I turned the faucet in the kitchen sink and nothing came out. Then she started saying, "plumber, ma'am," as if I hadn't thought to call the plumber. I told her he was supposed to come at 9. I think she actually does understand numbers so she went out to the lobby and called down to the security guard. She came back with a big smile like she just took care of business. "He come."

She starts sweeping, airs out the rugs, fills up a bucket in the bathroom and starts washing the floor. She points to the phone and says something like, "Ma la." I take this to mean either she needs to use the phone or she wants me to call someone. I say, "phone?" She points and repeats, "Ma la," and points to the sink.
So I say, "Call maintenance?"
She says, "yes, four, four."
"Four, four?"
She comes over and dials four, four, four, four, and hands me the phone. I tell them I am still waiting for the plumber who was supposed to be here at 9 AM. He asked me what flat and asked me what the problem is. I repeated the whole story starting from the gushing water yesterday morning. (He did speak English so I'd like to think he got it all.) He said he would send a plumber over.

The maid-girl cleaned the bathrooms and it was now about 11 AM. She said, "ma la" again so again I called. This time the guy on the phone asked me for my flat number and said that he would send someone by 3. I told him that he had to send someone immediately because I was already late for an appointment and had been waiting since 9 (if you discount yesterday when it was originally supposed to be fixed). He started saying something about 2 but at this point (after Sir encouraged me to yell and be more forceful) I just started talking over him and repeated that he needed to send someone immediately and that I've been waiting since yesterday. He continued to talk and I continued to talk over him until he just hung up on me.

At this point the maid had again filled up a bucket and was starting to wash the dishes. When I hung up she said something I didn't understand but assumed was along the lines of "what happened?" So I said he hung up on me and picked up the reciever and hung it down for effect. She put down the bowl in her hand and started dialing. She yelled something and then kept saying something like "taka, taka." She hung up with the same grin she had earlier. "He come." She finished the dishes with what I'm pretty sure was the same bucket she used to wash the floors and the bathrooms.

Then, there was a knock at the door. Could it really be him? Only two hours late? ...No. It was the maid's friend who either works or lives next door. She is about 3' 11" tall and always smiles (with a very warm smile) and says hello when she sees me. They started chatting and the friend picks up the phone and she starts talking to maintenance. She hangs up and says the plumber will be here by 12. I left John Paul a message letting him know we were still without water.

Noon came and went. I missed my tea with the ladies but was looking forward to a holiday lunch where there was to be a small gift exchange. Sir had had a meeting in a different office in the morning and stopped by the house on his way to his office and we left together a little after 12. He called maintenance and told them that we'd be waiting too long already and they were to send someone at 4 pm.

I called again at 5:20 and got someone who again asked what the problem was and I gave him an abbreviated version but said that I had been waiting since 9 AM. "Oh, ok, Ma'am. I will send someone over." But I'm glad I went to lunch because everyone there had a similarly frustrating story to share (and a mid-day glass of champagne never hurts).

It is now 6:20 pm and we are still without water in the kitchen.

8 Days Can't Come Quick Enough

When the weather is very unusual, it seems to be all people can talk about. The rain and cold last week was the talk of the town and attributed to a cyclone somewhere in the Bay of Bengal. "It never rains in Winter." Everyone said so. Since Saturday is been back to 70 and sunny. But never...?

Last night, I turned the light off a little after 10 and set the alarm to 5:30 as I was going to join my running group again. Sometime in the middle of the night, I woke up to the sound of rain. It was a heavy, steady rain and as I tried to get back to sleep, I wondered if it would be too rainy to run. But after I woke up the first time, I kept waking up again throughout the night and again thought that the rain was still unusually heavy and steady. I wondered if winter rain was only unusual during the day. Maybe in winter, it only rains at night? I fell back asleep worrying about global warming and every time I woke up again, it still sounded like it was pouring. Finally, the alarm went off and I looked out the window, thinking I'd just go back to bed because it would be too rainy to run. But the streets were completely dry - not a puddle in sight. I went to the kitchen and the noise got louder, I walked into the small space off the kitchen where the washer is and realized that the only rain coming down was from a faucet indoors. There is a faucet behind the washer with two spigots and two knobs. One of the spigots goes directly to a drain in the ground and the other spigot is covered by a tube that attaches to the washer. Water was gushing out of the spigot that empties into a drain on the floor.

There was a small puddle by the machine but luckily, most of the water was going down the drain as it should. So I figure I'll just try turning knobs until the water goes off. The first knob did nothing. The second knob that is attached to the spigot with the tube was very loose so when I tried turning it, it felt like it was going to fall off. With all the commotion, Sir got up and I explained the situation. He took a look and the knob fell off and water starting spraying out in all directions. A soft but full spray that was now watering the entire space. I called John Paul, who seemed very pleased to be hearing from me at 5:30 AM, and he said to go downstairs to the security desk and ask them to call maintenance and send up a plumber. "It will take my guys too long to get there." Sir said there was no one at the front desk so he spoke to the guards at the entrance gate and they assured him a plumber was on the way. When I left to meet my running friends, the guard was at the front desk so I tried to confirm a plumber was coming. But of course, he didn't understand "plumber" so I tried to make swishing water noises and big motions with my arms. He understood maintenance, dialed the phone and handed it to me. The man on the other end spoke English and said that the plumber was definitely on his way.

When I came back from my run, the apartment was quiet but Sir was not yet showered. He said the plumber came and turned the water off by climbing out the window over the kitchen sink and turning his body around a corner cement wall that juts out just to the left of the window. I asked how far he had to reach and Sir said he was almost entirely out of the window. Just picturing his feet dangling in the sink, body stretched, two stories up, is a sight I'm sorry to have missed. Apparently a seal on the faucet was rotted and the plumber left saying he'd be back with a new one. This must have been around 6:45 AM. I went down to the security desk around 10:30 and again spoke directly to maintenance who said they were sending the plumber right over. I gave him until noon before I left so he may have come sometime between noon and 4 pm. In the meantime, I called John Paul from the car to let him know our water (in the kitchen) had been shut off and that we needed a new part but were supposedly get it from maintenance. I told him I was out but so if he was planning to send anyone, to send them with the maid.

The maid was here when I came back feverishly sweeping and said that the plumber would come in 5 minutes. "I call." But he didn't understand when I tried to figure out who he called. A plumber did arrive about 15 minutes later and I thought it was John Paul's plumber because he was asking me who turned the water off. (You'd think he would know that the plumber on the morning shift turned it off.) He was wearing a blue jumpsuit that said "Prestige Group" in green lettering. John Paul's guys are never in any sort of uniform and all come from the "Diamond District" which is not owned by Prestige. He had a bag of parts and was fiddling behind the washer for a couple of minutes. He then showed me a knob and said "do not fit." Again, if he was from our building's maintenance, he would also know from this morning the part we needed. So I tried to explain that we called maintenance and they were supposed to be bringing the new part.
"Yes, new part. You call who?"
"We called maintenance from desk downstairs," I said. "Do you work for John Paul" I pointed to the maid.
"No, ma'am."
"So did you come this morning?"
"No," he said but it wasn't a very convincing no, like he didn't get the question.
"Someone was supposed to come this morning with the new part. Do you work for maintenance here?"
"Yes, ma'am. New part. 250 rupees."
"But that's not the part? It won't fix it?" I ask pointing to the knob in his hand.
"No. Tomorrow. I fix."
At this point, he says something to the maid and they begin to raise their voices. The maid then dials his phone and starts speaking very quickly, and the plumber tries to keep talking to the maid who is now talking to someone else. The maid gives the phone to the plumber and I know they are discussing price and again and with raised voices so I think that this mustn't be John Paul's guy. As the plumber is now on the phone, the maid says to me, "you no pay."
They hang up the phone and the plumber says, "Tomorrow I come 10/10:30."
"I won't be home then. Come at 9."
"9:30 ma'am."
"No, I have to leave then." Suddenly I am negotiating time.
"9:15."
At this point the maid steps in and says to the plumber, "Come, 9." I do like this boy-maid.
"Yes, 9. This was supposed to be fixed today."
"No problem, ma'am."

At least we have water in the bathrooms.

Our weekend: Korean food, Bowling, Cricket, Charity dinner

So last Friday after my day painting a pottery bowl at the Doodle Den, we went for Korean food and bowling with Vivian and Liam. Vivian and I had been hearing about this Korean restaurant for a while, so she finally decided to get directions and make a reservation. Chandan drove the four of us but only Vivian knew where we were going. She said it was on the way out to the airport. So with that, we headed out. As we got closer and Chandan was looking for more direction. She told us the restaurant was actually on the top floor of an apartment building. With this new information, Liam and George began listing other places where we could go instead. We were picturing knocking on someone's door, being seated on their couch for drinks and hors d'oeuvres and then moving to their dinner table for the main course. We pulled onto a dark side street with few stores or restaurants. Chandan stopped at a convenience store to ask if we were headed in the right direction. After another block, we saw a sign for Soo Ra Sang in front of an apartment complex. We entered the building and were told to go to the fifth floor. The elevator only went to the fourth floor, was barely big enough for the four of us, and you had to shut the front gate and then the inside door manually. From the fourth floor we took the stairs and passed some apartment doors,still not sure if we would be knocking on one of these doors, one floor up. But at the top of the stairs was a podium with reservations listed in book and an opening into the small restaurant.

We sat at a table with a BBQ pit in the center and Sir got the lucky side of the bench with the gas tank underneath. We asked the waitress if she would recommend anything and she said their pork was the best in Bangalore. When pressed further, she said, "They kill the pigs in front of us so we know they've been killed properly and the meat is fresh. Same with the cows." A convincing enough answer for my friends as they got pork, beef and chicken. When she found out one of us was a veg, she told me she would bring me some dish that sounded like Moo Shoo Poo. I'm not sure if this was the only dish without meat or whether she knew I was indecisive so she just chose for me but either way, it was good. It came out in a sizzling bowl with rice, various vegetables and an egg over easy, still cooking. She urged me to quickly stir it all together so the egg would finish cooking and the rice didn't stick. Meanwhile, the plates of raw beef and chicken were waiting for the pork to cook on the grill. The marinade, I am told, was delicious. So even though we were in a restaurant with all of 8 tables, on the top floor of an apartment building, overlooking the airport, it was a fun Korean meal.

After dinner we went bowling. The bowling alley was in the basement of a mall attached to a hotel (the Leela, where we went for my birthday). There were four lanes that were initially all taken up by some rowdy Indian gents. We were guessing that it might have been some work function as there were a couple of older white men in ties mixed in with the younger Indians. But we didn't have to wait too long for a lane to open and donned our very fashionable blue and red shoes. Liam and Vivian neglected to tell us they had gone bowling a couple of weeks ago which explained Liam's victory. The second game we played got more interesting as Sir let the butterflies get to him and lost it on a couple of turns putting me in an excellent position to beat him. The perfect time to make a bet. If I won, Sir was going to run out of the mall/hotel naked. He came back with some solid bowls (is that the proper term, instead of throws?) and it was down to my last turn. I needed to get nine down to beat him. With effortless cool, I stepped up, slowly brought the lucky red ball back and ever so gracefully, released the ball for a strike. I won, Sir cried and kept all his clothes on.

Saturday we went to the cricket. It was a "test match" against Pakistan which I think means that only one team bats on that day, since India was the only team to bat. But because it was against rival Pakistan, the crowd was still very lively. We got there pretty early for India time, but got to see one of the more famous players hit. (Rahul Dravid for all you cricket fans. If you are familiar with that Gillette ad with Tiger Woods, Roger Federer and Tierry Henry, they have the same commercial but added Dravid with the others.) We had tickets that also entitled us to lunch and tea and unlimited drinks. We decided 10 AM was a little early for the Kingfisher but you'd be surprised how many would disagree. The man in front of us with his wife and two kids was putting them back pretty easily. At 11:30, they stopped for lunch which was a full Indian buffet, complete with dessert. We sat outside, in an area like box seats and then walked up to a large room with a few more seats by the windows for lunch. They resumed play at 12:10 and we stayed for another hour or so after that. The weather was gorgeous and the Indians go wild for the cricket, so the crowd was good. Sir and I are pretty sure I was either the only, or one of only a handful of white women. (We saw a couple of other white businessmen in the box next to ours.) It was definitely a place for the rich and famous of Bangalore to see and be seen. Lots of men with slicked back hair, wearing expensive sunglasses and jeans. The women were well dressed in their Western clothes waiting to catch a glimpse of M.S. Donhi, the David Beckham of India. Even though I could only follow the basics of what was going on, it was still fun.

Sunday night I dragged Sir to a charity dinner hosted by Belaku (the organization that helps the village women). I didn't really know anyone other than my friend Rachel (the Irish lesbian) but how often do you have the opportunity to go to 7 course charity dinners? Being the very fashionable Americans, we were the first to arrive. Luckily Rachel was there setting up and others started arriving pretty quickly after us. One of the women with whom I went out to the villages was there with her husband who is running a start up company here. He is doing something with advertising for newspapers. Mona was a lawyer back in LA but both she and her husband are originally from India. We spent most of the night talking to the but were also at a table with a woman from Trinidad and her Jamaican husband, and two Germans. The couple from the Carribean had been living in Atlanta for the past few years and he spoke with an American accent. Before dessert, there was a short auction. They auctioned off a painting that Sir was convinced was a cow's utter (although still up for interpretation), a sari and a weekend homestay. Sir tried to be a big spender and bid on the weekend trip but ended up being out bid by a bigger spender. (I don't know why we didn't try for the cow's utter.) The food was excellent and Sir had a good time trying to convince people I was a huge Bob Marley fan. But in typical Indian fashion, it took forever to get seated, to get the food out, to get the auction going - so made for a long night.

Some pictures of the cricket:








At one point they rolled this inflatable can of Sprite out onto the field. They rolled it out, stood there for a couple of minutes then rolled it back off the field. No announcement, no song or dance, just a big can of Sprite on the field.

More From Sir...

Since the first Q&A with Sir was well received and we had some time before our charity dinner, we decided to do a joint interview.

1. How excited are you to come home?

GA: Very much. While it has been both fun and exiting to live here for the past 3+ months, it will be nice to be home around things that are familiar.

KS: I haven’t been this excited since finding out we were going to India.

2. What have you missed most about the US while living in India?

GA: In no particular order: Mexican food, having more beer options than Kingfisher, no cricket on TV, talking sports with Stephen, being able to walk on the sidewalk, continuous electricity.

KS: But weren’t you drinking Belgian beers last night? Anyway, in order of what I miss most to what I miss least: Family (I won’t rank in order of who I miss most but Hannah, you know you’re first), a comfy couch, hot showers, brushing my teeth with running water, cleanliness, being able to run wherever/whenever, shoes that aren’t Bedazzled.

3. Is there anything you will miss about Bangalore while you are home?

GA: Yes. The weather, Chandan.

KS: Me too.

GA: Some of the attention that goes with being a foreigner in Bangalore.

KS: Not me. I want to be able to walk around with no stares.

GA: My wife’s cooking, the guard that stands up and salutes me every time I come in the building.

KS: Menus filled with veg options

GA: Watching men’s field hockey on TV, being able to bargain while shopping, being able to go out for a nice dinner for $6USD.

4. What is the worst thing about living in Bangalore?

GA: The constant barrage you are under from street vendors trying to sell you garbage, really bad TV, the allowance of smoking in all indoor places.

KS: Yeah, never being left alone – in stores, on the street, in restaurants.

5. What is the best thing about living in Bangalore?

KS: Being a lady of leisure

GA: I think your questions are getting redundant.

KS: You just don’t want to agree with my answer and say the same thing. But remember, part of being a lady of leisure is that I have the time to make sure there is a hot meal waiting for you after a long day.

6. You’ve gotten used to a certain lifestyle here, are you nervous that you are getting spoiled?

GA: Seeing some of you have already offered to give us rides where ever we need to go, I’m not too worried.

KS: You mean it’s too much to ask for a driver while we’re home?

7. What do you want Santa to bring you?

GA: Plane tickets I can give out for people to come visit. Other than that, I don’t care what it is, as long as it’s not from Bob’s, a Wii…

KS: George, we do not need a Wii. The power will cut out in the middle of a game and you’ll get frustrated.

GA: For my wife to stop collecting dudes’ numbers or worse, giving out her number.

KS: I can't help that I am nice and people like me. I want a new iPod and snow.

8. Now that you are a part of the family, are there any new traditions you would like to add to our Christmas?

GA: I’d like Phil and Jim to drink heavily.

KS: Then we could do Bollywood dancing and create skits like Chandan does on his holidays! Tell Carolyn to get her tutus ready.

See you in 10 days.

Bangalore at 6 AM

A while ago, Vanessa had given me the name and email of one of her friends who she said "is always busy with her running group." But after hearing that they go to a park that is a bit of a hike from our place and leave around 5:30, I didn't really pursue it much further. But my run in with Alvin got me thinking. Not about changing our locks, phone number or appearance but that it is kind of nice to be out with other people and helps to keep you motivated. So I emailed Leona (Vanessa's friend) yesterday and agreed to meet her this morning at 6:15.

Up before the sun, I walked downstairs to the front security guard sitting at the desk wrapped in a layers of bulky shirts, a scarf and ski cap. He had closed the big, glass doors to the entrance of the Birch building and I began to wonder if my long sleeve t-shirt would be warm enough. But as soon as I opened the door, I knew I'd be fine. I left a little early not knowing exactly where I was going or how easy it would be to get an auto at that time of morning. In addition to those concerns, it was darker than I anticipated so I guess I was a little jumpy. The walk to the mall is easy and I knew once I made it there, there would be plenty of autos and people around. But just outside our complex, I saw a blond dog with matted hair and ever since my first week when that British woman with the droopy face told me she got bit by a stray dog near our apartment, I can't help but feel a little nervous around them (nevermind my poor, deprived, dogless childhood). I know the trick is to just ignore them and not make eye contact but he was the only thing that was moving so without thinking, I turned my head. I tried to snap it back but it was too late. I heard the clicking of his paws against the pavement getting closer and closer. My instinct was to run but after the Turkey Attack 2006, I knew that would be the worst thing to do. So I just looked straight ahead and kept walking, my heart pounding ,hoping that one of the other people passing would distract him or an auto would pull up soon. The dog grazed my leg but never barked. He only followed me to the end of the block and even for 5:45 AM, there were quite a few out and about. Still, it was enough to make me think I should turn back and crawl back into bed. But sure enough, an an auto pulled up and I was on my way.

We were supposed to be meeting at the Maharaja Hotel, near Leona's house, at 6:15. Luckily the driver knew that by Maharaja Hotel, I really meant Maharaja Restaurant. I arrived at 6 and even though I knew I was 15 minutes early, the creepy dog combined with the misty drizzle began to feel like an omen and a dull paranoia had me thinking I was in the wrong place. Then another black dog, holding up his right front leg came limping toward me. Careful not to look at him, I moved next to two men washing a silver mini-van. The dog lingered but didn't come near us. The two men didn't pay me much attention other than an initial, "wonder what she's doing" look. I sent Leona a text message letting her know I had arrived and the dog starting barking at a passing car which literally made me jump, then look to see if the men notice, then laugh that I jumped and the men were still busy scrubbing. I began to run "worst possible case scenarios" through my head and was waiting long enough to get from: "I'll just catch the next auto that passes (there were a couple) and forget I ever woke up" to "the dog grabs hold of my leg, starts foaming at the mouth, the men throw down their rags like they're going to help me but chuck me in the back of their van, take my phone but underestimate my strength and I break free and jump out of a moving van." It was probably all of 3 minutes before I saw another female jogger a few feet away. I walked over an introduced myself thinking it was Leona but it was another girl Leona had invited. She told me in the future to not wait on the corner where I was but better to wait where she was standing. I told her I had only been up for 20 minutes but already had felt enough adrenaline coursing through my veins to make me feel like a superwoman. She said she had run from her house (very near ours) by herself and that there is nothing to worry about. I wondered if she really was Superwoman. I asked her if she feels safe and she says she does but at the corner, there usually are men standing around and it's just easier to go unnoticed a few feet away. She didn't mention the dogs.

A few minutes later Leona and a man named Sunil showed up and the four of us headed out through the dirty streets of Bangalore. I still would never go out by myself but it was nice to get out with some other people and see some more of the city. We went through some quiet but nice neighborhoods, passed lots of dogs who didn't give us a second glance, passed a few cows who likewise, kept eating the garbage on the side of the road, zigzagged through patches of cow dung and ended up on a dirt path by the river. Sunil told me we couldn't go all the way around the path because it gets too polluted (meaning smelly) on one side so we would have to turn around and double back. He tried to convince me to run the Ultra-marathon next week and I tried to convince him I wasn't ready as I'm not sure a week of training is really enough. But now I am plugged into the "running scene," I think.

In retrospect, there was nothing particularly scary about the morning other than my own imagination and lest anyone think I am in any danger, both Leona and "Mo" (the Indian women), regularly run at dawn by themselves in that neighborhood. I'm glad I went and will definitely meet up with them again.

It's been cold and grey outside today but I'm actually enjoying it. It finally feels like a Fall day. Chandan said, "very unusual this cold," which seems obvious based on the number of Indians dressing like our security guard. I've often seen people selling ski jackets on the side of the road and wondered who would need a ski jacket in this climate. Now I know.

Tomorrow, I am going to a holiday party at the "Doodle Den." You pick a piece of pottery and paint it. No, I am not 8. I'm sure it will be a very sophisticated affair.

Oh, and if anyone is still keeping count, I saw 3 dead rats this morning.

Adventures in the Autos

The maid-girl, who is supposed to come Tuesdays and Thursdays around 10 showed up today at 7:50. Clearly I have mastered "Communicating with Indians 101." But not entirely her fault, I did leave yesterday morning around 9:50, before she arrived so I'm sure I confused her. But I had to go or I'd miss chanting "Om" which I've grown to love at yoga. So we got doubly clean today as the maid-boy showed up about 3 hours later. I think she is going to come back tomorrow and I shouldn't see him again until Friday.

Since the maid was here at 8, I couldn't possibly go out and run at that time and had planned to use that as my accuse but Alvin never called. Still, I stuck to the treadmill after the maid left so as not to take any chances. I just got home but so far it's been an Alvin-free day.

Chandan had a wedding to go to today so I could have either walked to the mall, stayed home all day or inhaled the toxic fumes in the auto (rickshaw). I like the adventure of the autos so I headed out to do some Christmas shopping.

Today's adventure started with my first auto driver who first asked if I spoke Kannada. (I think really starting to blend in! Why wouldn't a blond, white girl know some random Indian dialect?) Sadly, I said I do not, which marked my first lesson in Kannada. He taught me the word "ooty." But when I asked, "what does that mean," he just kept repeating, "ooty, ooty." Then he started saying "Kataka, kataka." I repeated and again tried, "and in English?," hoping that he would realize I had no idea what my two new vocabulary words meant. But he switched topic and moved on to asking me my age and where I am from. He asked me if I "have husband" and if I am working. From there, the conversation spun into a downward spiral. He wanted to know if I have babies but when I tried to say no, it was like he suddenly didn't understand any English. For a good ten minutes, we went around and around, shouting through the beeps and motors, about how I didn't have any kids yet but someday I would. He wanted to know "how many people make up your family?" I told him two but, he kept asking, "three, four, five," as if two was not even a possibility. "You have little ones?" No. "How many?" I don't have any. "How many babies." None yet. "Oh, ok...but you have babies?" I will, someday. Later. Not now. "No babies? No, little ones, how many?" Finally after many, many blocks of the same questions and answers, he asked again "how many babies?" We were stopped at an intersection and when you are stuck, the autos and scooters will turn off their engines so it is quieter. He turned around to look at me. I wanted to believe that this somehow signaled that he finally understood I don't have any babies right now, so I told him I didn't know how many I would have. But I totally baffled him "You don't know? Yes, you know. How many?" He paused waiting for my response. I waited trying to think of yet another way to say I don't have any kids when he started yelling, "Babies! Babies!" He made a big belly with his hands over and over. We started moving again. If you think the "who's on first" routine is funny...

Finally, at another intersection he again tried to level with me, "Now, how many babies you have." I just smiled and said two. "How old?" Um..."three and five." He seemed pleased with this and I thought that would be the end. "Four in your family," he started again. "Why not you have five or six? Your husband, he like..." Now, I can't be sure what followed because the entire circular conversation took place amidst the noise of traffic between two people with very different accents, neither of which really speaks the other's language but I think he asking something you would never ask a stranger, nevermind a lady. And he had what I interpreted as a mischievous grin so with a look of total disbelief, I said "excuse me?" I was getting ready to jump out and he said, "You're husband's at work?" But I know that is not what he originally asked. So I ignored him and we didn't talk the rest of the way.

Just last week, Vivian was telling me about a driver she had who basically ran through the same line of questioning, only she said her driver was younger and mine was older. Yet another reason to celebrate Chandan.

I did get some gifts and met some very gentlemen-ly men who assured me that they were "making (me) good price." One of them told me, "You breaking my heart you ask to pay so little." But he gave it to me for my price so he couldn't be too heartbroken.

My ride home was much more pleasant and the driver understood when I said, "Tavarekere" and took me right to the apartment instead of dropping me at the mall.

Since I was already mistaken for a local once today, I figured I might as well break out the camera today. Not sure if I've taken pictures of where I go to do my bargaining but here are a couple of the Commercial Street area.

The first three photos are Commercial Street (the main, paved road) the last three are off Commercial - some paved, some dirt.

Not quite like Macy's in Herald Square but some stores actually did have some garland and Christmas trees.

Be Careful What You Wish For...

Just last week (I think), I was wishing for an Indian friend. Well, I have one now.

I was running around our complex yesterday morning around 8 - like I have done many mornings before. There are usually lots of other people out at this time but they are strictly walkers. Since September, I have never seen any other joggers, until yesterday. I was almost done my rounds when I saw an Indian guy running in my direction. "Mind if I join you," he asked. I told him I was almost done but I would go a couple more rounds. He introduced himself as Alvin and said that he lived in apartment A90-something and I said I lived in B204. He asked if I normally run around the complex because he hadn't seen me before. I asked him when he normally runs and he said 5:30 AM because he has to get to work. I told him that's why he's never seen me, I always go later. Naturally, he asked what time I have to go to work and I told him I don't work but am here with my husband who is on assignment. He told me he works for one of the tech companies and is some type of engineer. When I said I was from Connecticut, he asked if the University of Connecticut is a good school. He then talked at length (or what felt like at length...we only talked for all of 10 minutes, maybe) about how he was applying to grad schools but had gotten rejected...well, he was accepted by some schools in California last year but had trouble getting his Visa because the US thinks he is a terrorist. Long story short, he is reapplying to schools this year but is getting rejected. He said something like, "Anyone can get a Visa so I guess the schools think that if I can't pass my Visa interview, I don't really belong at their school." He seemed to be taking more of a, "isn't it ridiculous, little old me, Alvin, can't get a Visa?" As opposed to a, "I'm so frustrated that anyone can get a Visa but because of X reason, I can't." It seemed to me there was more to this story he was not sharing.

Finally, we reached my building again and I told him I was done for the day but it was nice to meet him. He asked me when I would be out again. Since he provided no explanation for his late start today, I figured he would resume his regular 5:30 start time and I'd see him again in a few months. I told him I would be out again on Wednesday. "Great. Mind if I join you then? Jogging alone can be so tedious." Running around our complex is tedious enough and he seemed nice enough so I said, "great. See you Wednesday."

About 10 minutes later, I am in the apartment and the phone rings. "Hello, this is Alvin. We just met outside..."
"Oh, hi."
"Yeah, I got your extension from the directory downstairs. How are you?"
I didn't even realize there was a directory downstairs and I thought we just spoke but I answered anyway, "fine. How are you?"
"Oh, good, good. Ah, Kathleen, what time does your husband come home from work?"
At no point yet was I wondering if he was asking so he could come over and poke my eyes out with a fork. Without think about the strangeness of the question, I said, "Around 7, I guess. Why?"
"Oh, great. Well, I wanted to invite you over to dinner tonight. We can say 7:30 or so."
"Um, thank you. But unfortunately, we can't make it tonight but maybe some other time." I had no good reason why not, other than we just met and I was planning a fajitas fiesta with the real flour tortillas I found at the store.
"Why not tonight?"
Considering the fiesta excuse didn't hold much weight, I opted for, "Well, we've been invited to dinner at our friends who live upstairs." (Not a complete lie, Vivian and Liam have invited us over for dinner, just not last night.)
"Oh, I see. Lucky for them, they got to you first. Well, what are you doing for lunch?"
Now, I began wondering if Alvin was really just a nice Indian lad or if he has a case of the crazies. So I said, "Sorry again, but I have quite a few errands to run today. I'm going to be in and out."
"You are very busy, then. Errands, I see. I suppose you've already eaten breakfast?"
"Yes, I just finished."
"What did you have?"
"Eggs and toast," which I actually hadn't made yet but hopefully you can see my hesitation to divulge the full truth.
"I had porridge."
"Ok, well, listen, I have to go now but will talk to you later."
"Yes, ok. See you. Bye."

I hung up wondering if this wasn't just some cultural difference. Seeing as this was my first real Indian friend, maybe his strange behavior/questions were not so strange after all. Maybe he is just a friendly, hospitable chap looking for American friends who can act as references on his Visa applications. With this in mind, I went out to run my errands.

I came home around 2 and the phone rang. The only calls we ever get on the house phone are either recordings from the phone company or Sir telling me he's on his way home (and that is never at 2 pm), so I didn't pick it up. About 20 minutes later, it rings again. This time my curiosity got the better of me.
"Hello?"
"Hello, Kathleen. This is Alvin."
"Oh, hello again."
"You are back now from your errands?"
"I just came home to drop some things off and have something to eat but I'll be on my way out again."
"You don't work but always running around?"
"I guess."
"Since you have to eat, why don't you join me for lunch?"
"Oh, well, I'm afraid I've already started to cook. Thanks anyway."
"What are you cooking?"
"Um," can't think that fast..."sandwiches."
"Sandwiches? You don't have to cook those. Put away your sandwiches and have some Indian food with me."
"Thanks but really, I have to leave again soon."
"You don't like Indian food?"
"I do but..."
"I am cooking Southern Indian. Very good. Different from Northern Indian because we use more sauces and curries..."
I was half listening to Alvin at this point and half listening to the washing machine I just turned on when I heard, "so, won't you join me?" on the other end of the line.
"Really, I have some more shopping to do. I'm going to have my sandwich and go."
"You are shopping all the time."
"Yes, well, we're going home soon for the holidays and I need to buy gifts."
"Of course, yes. You go home for your holidays. Where are you going to shop?"
"Um," quick think of a big crowded area where you could easily lose a psycho-stalker..."Commercial Street." Of course, then I realized I didn't have any intention of leaving again but got caught up in my own lies.
"How will you get there?"
"I have a driver."
"Oh, ok, good. Be careful."
"Bye, Alvin."
"Bye."

Sir was a little unsettled by the events of my day and the ease with which I revealed our address and that he has our number. I am still hoping he's just an over-friendly guy but will probably head for the treadmill tomorrow and keep a low profile for awhile. I was out most of the morning and early afternoon today but the phone has only rung once since I've been here. Hopefully, Alvin is getting the hint that I will never not be busy.

Instead of shopping on Commercial Street, I had to attend to the latest laundry situation. The machine kicked on and was making noise like it wanted to work but it wasn't filling with water. I tried shutting in on and off and readjusting the dials a few times but no luck. I noticed the handles on the pipes behind the machine but behind the machine is a dark, dirty, dodgy place so I didn't touch them. Instead, I called John Paul and told him the washer wasn't filling up with water. He said he would send someone over "this evening."

Around 8 pm, one of the "electricians" showed up. It was the guy who I think is the "head" electrician who wears flashy shirts and seems like he spends alot of time on his hair. I explained the problem, he went right for the dirty, dark, dodgy part of the washer, turned a few knobs and the machine started filling with water. I felt a little silly that it was so easily fixed and felt the need to apologize for wasting his time but he insisted it was "no problem." Since I was dealing with a non-hugger, who I think is in charge, I asked him about our dryer. I told him it still doesn't work and he of course looked at me like he had no idea what I was talking about. "You are not using?" I told him that someone came a while ago to look at it and said we just had to be sure we didn't run the washer and the dryer at the same time. But even if there is no other appliance using power, the dryer shorts a circuit. He said he would have to come back today to take a look because he was "not prepared for this." Sure, no problem. We've been without it this long, maybe we don't really need a dryer.

But I still don't think the washer is "fixed." It's not totally broken but I think it's definitely sick. Last night, it was leaking suds and water as we went to bed and when we woke up the clothes we're still dripping wet. (The puddle of suds had dried up though.) I ran the clothes back through the spin cycle which dried them. The second load I tried today didn't leak water but I still had to run it through the spin cycle twice. The third load (it is a mini-washer) leaked again but one spin cycle was enough. I'm going to have to monitor the situation and figure out a way to explain this to John Paul or the electrician if he ever comes back.

Maybe Alvin will let us borrow his machine?

'Tis the Season

The 2007 OWC Christmas Bazaar was by all counts a success. I'd like to say that none of it would've been possible without the Sound and Lights Committee (of two) but this is not fiction. I did not touch a light, a cord, microphone, speaker or an outlet the entire time. And still, there were lights and there was sound loud enough to hear the obnoxious American women yelling, that anyone who had entered without paying the entrance fee must "please evacuate immediately." (There was some confusion in the beginning as the ticket sellers were trying to set up but I'm not sure it called for an evacuation call.) But what do I know, I'm just sound and lights. And see how pretty this tree looks with the lights hanging ever so gracefully in the bright sunshine...
But I can't take all the credit for that; it was all taken care of by the company who handled all the electrical needs. The lights didn't go any further up than what you see here and were only on one tree. What a festive tone they set, no?

The event started at noon and I arrived around 11:30 to lots of busy women running around with grumpy looks on their faces because they were the only ones doing any work. But I found my fellow committee member Edith, who also happens to be a high ranking OWC officer (VP of Events). Since, N'Sync's "Tearin' Up My Heart" was blasting out of the speakers and the lights were hanging, she gave me some other important tasks - like moving tables and hanging signs telling people where they could buy Christmas cards and raffle tickets - real VIP stuff. Fearing my title might be changed to "Miscellaneous Task Girl," I decided to take my time and do an adequate job. I never did find the Christmas cards (they decided not to sell them this year) and had the opportunity to mingle and see what kinds of things I could buy.

Here a couple of pictures of the tent.



Again, makes for a very festive Christmas Bazaar with the red, yellow and purple (that and the fact that it was about 80 degrees). I got to browse and mingle until about 1:30 when I was asked if I could sit at the entrance and sell tickets. I was to be relieving someone who was just going to "grab some lunch" and come back. I was given my instructions to collect the money, give the customer a ticket, put a copy of the ticket in a box for the raffle and keep the third copy for OWC records. The woman sitting next to me, Sarah, was selling food and "game" tickets for the kids. Although run by foreigners, you'll be happy to know that the OWC has adopted a "when in India" attitude towards ticket sales. I had to make sure that the three copies of the entrance tickets were sorted correctly and Sarah had yellow tickets for 10 rupees that could only be used for food and pink tickets for 50 rupees that could only be used for all of the kids' activities, except the "sleigh" pulled by an ox (those you could use the yellow tickets). Most of the kids activities were 10 rupees and most of the food was at least 50 rupees. And we were first told that none of the food vendors were taking cash but later told that tickets or cash would suffice. True to the Indian style, it was all way more complicated than it needed to be.

Sarah and I were aided by Artem, an Indian guy who works for the cathedral where the bazaar was held. He was responsible for stamping everyone as they came in and making sure no one without a stamp entered. You would think he was guarding the entrance to Buckingham Palace. He was a little too efficient. At one point some guy came to the entrance and said that he works with one of the charities selling goods and needed to speak to someone inside. Since he could produce no identification linking him to the group and was unwilling to cough up the 100 rupee entrance fee, which were the only two options according to Artem, he was denied access. There were a couple of other OWC members that were in an out of our entrance at least 5 times and yet every time, he stopped and asked to see their stamps. He is the Dwight Shroot (from "The Office") of India. I waited and waited for the women I relieved to come back and by 3 pm, she still had not returned. I liked Sarah and sitting at the entrance I got to see everyone coming and going so it wasn't such a bad job. Finally at 3, Heather, the perky American running the whole show brought some more volunteers over to relieve us and my duties were complete.

Santa did make it all the way to India and there were wandering carolers decked out in Santa hats, some wearing red and green (though not pictured here).




Not quite like eight reigndeer pulling a sleigh but the kids seemed to like it.










I intended to buy lots of Christmas gifts but didn't do very well mostly because I can get similar things cheaper in Bangalore. I think the vendors knew their market so they raised their prices a bit. I was looking at one necklace (ok, no, not as a gift but for me) but told the man selling it was too much. He told me that as an OWC volunteer (I had an official badge) I could get 20% off. I told him it was still too much so he asked me the maximum I would pay. I said 400. It was originally 850. He said how about 500, handed a bag to his assistant to wrap it up for me and started hounding someone else so I walked away. Next thing I know he is running after me, "Ma'am, what happened?" I told him I only had 400. With a sideways head bob, I went back and got it for 4oo (even though I had more cash). I'm hoping I can get some similar bargains when I continue my Christmas shopping this week. Who wants a carved wooden elephant?

By 3:45, there had been no major crises and everything seemed to be under control so I got the ok to go.

The rest of the weekend was pretty quiet. We made our weekly trek to the mall and saw the young hipsters of Bangalore hanging out at the Coffee Day and McDonald's, spending all their hard earned money from their fancy IT jobs.

Tomorrow I'll tell you about the new Indian friend I made. And I have a call in about our washing machine. It appears to be broken. Getting it fixed should be fun.

Who doesn't love word games?

So the trunk show was a bit boring. It wasn't really an OWC event - it was just hosted by two OWC members. It was at a fellow American's house and there were only about 5 people there when Vivian and I arrived (and maybe 7 by the time we left). There were of course, finger sandwiches, some cookies, fruit and cheese and a couple of racks of clothes. There were no saris. It was Western clothing with an Indian flair at Western prices. Still I found a reddish/pink bag that was cute and reasonably priced so I didn't walk away empty handed. For someone who did not like carrying a purse a year ago, I'm building quite the collection. We just sat around for an hour or so talking about where Liz (the host) had bought some of her furniture and where she got her pictures framed, then left. I suppose a bag and some hot tips on home decor is not bad for a boring afternoon.

Have seen nor heard for either of the maids.

The internet is back. It came last night.

Spent 15 minutes on the phone trying to tell the phone company that we do not pay the bill, it's taken care of by our landlord. He kept repeating that "Maya" (the women who actually owns the apartment) owes 7000 rupees. Finally, I told him I would give him John Paul's number, none of which I'm sure he understood but when I started giving him the number, he repeated each one after me leading me to believe he at least got that he could call someone else. Haven't heard back so we'll assume all is well until we discover there is no dial tone.

Saw a white horse on the sidewalk today with no other animal or person in sight and not tied to anything. It was just standing there, no blinders, no saddle, just wagging it's tail. You don't see many horses around here unless they are pulling something - cart of fruit, cart of metal rods, cart of long sticks...

Finally got a good look at the makeshift tire repair area that is at the corner of a mosque. I always see lots of tires and metal parts but there are always people crowding the corner so I assumed it was some sort of stop but didn't quite realize what an operation it was. There were about 5 men working on two bicycles (but I think they take care of scooters too). There is no sign that says they repair anything or any type of hut or tent. They just sat on the curb and in the road surrounded with various tools and tire rims.

Saw some sort of demonstration or rally and asked Chandan what was going on. He just said, "for politician ma'am." There were a few men standing in the doorway to some building in front of a mob of people clapping and shouting. The building was decorated with those triangular flags that hang on a string in rows attached to trees and there was a loud speaker going that sounded alot like the Muslim's call to prayer. But I've given up on trying to follow politics here. With headlines like, "JD(S) not to take oath with BJP: HDK Elected JDSLP Leader; No DyCM yet," I'm finding it all a bit confusing. Indians love the acronym. They are always shortening not only names, but places, events, ATCBS. So you'll be reading about how someone wants to have a meeting to talk about Bangalore's traffic problems, thinking you understand when SSA is in the MOTS. They even include PITA. After a few more paragraphs of ATN, you JDWTR anymore.

HAGW. GEFCB. SOFBC.

(Whoever guesses all the acronyms correctly gets a toy snake!)

Another First...

The water has been out in some parts of the city but our neighborhood has been spared so that’s good news. Our broadband connection is still down so that’s not such good news. But I think the maid situation will work out so more good news than bad.

One maid really likes to throw out our papers but the other maid seems to have quite an aversion to this. One maid likes to lay all the rugs down on the wrong side so the tags are sticking up (I say this like we have a lot of rugs – there are only three small ones). The other maid likes to flip our comforter so the top of the blanket is at our feet and the bottom is at our heads. (I think it’s pretty clear which end is up, not only because of the design but also because of the buttons on the duvet cover.) One likes to keep all the curtains closed, and the other always leaves them open. They both put our utensils and pots and pans in different spots making it fun to try to guess where they are. I actually like to keep our one pot and one pan on the burners because the drawers still seem dirty to me and I don’t have the stomach to really clean them. So I bought a utensil holder yesterday which hopefully makes it clear where they can put our four forks, four spoons and four knives. So between the three of us, I hope we can manage to keep a clean apartment.

The maid girl did bring Sir’s ironed shirt back – neatly folded in a bag. I think I have to give them to her on a hanger. Although, for 3 rupees, maybe ironing and then folding is how they do in India, no matter how counter-intuitive I think that seems. I asked her not to come again until Tuesday. After five minutes of trying to run through the days of the week without actually saying, Monday, Tuesday, etc. I think we got the days she will come sorted out. I won’t bore you with the entire conversation but it went something like, not tomorrow, not tomorrow, tomorrow, not tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow…Interestingly, the week days seemed to confuse her but she knew Saturday and Sunday (the most important days, I suppose.) She left me her number and I think her name is Donnalakshmi but she couldn’t write it for me so I am basing the spelling on her pronounciation – Donna-lock-shmee.

Abrupt transition:
When we moved in, one of the locks on our door didn’t work. So they fixed it and gave us two sets of keys. However, only one set worked though on both locks. After trying, multiple times, to get a duplicate key that works on both locks, three months later we still only had one key that worked on both locks. This week, I finally asked Chandan to take to me to get a duplicate key. So after yoga, we drove to an intersection where I saw a sign that said “duplicate keys” (no catchy name needed). However, Chandan did not pull in front but turned the corner to reveal the land of the duplicate keys. For as disorganized as Bangalore can sometimes seem, this is actually quite common. There are entire streets dedicated to one “industry.” There is a street for furniture, spare car parts, a separate street for tires, and apparently duplicate keys. Chandan told me I could go to any place so I picked the store with no one there. I walked up to two guys sitting in two chairs, surrounded by small walls decorated with rows of keys. I held out my key and asked for one copy. One of the guys stood up, turned around and walked to the machine behind him. Two minutes later he handed me my old and new key and asked for 60 rupees. It was the quickest transaction I’ve ever had in Bangalore. I can only guess that this was so difficult for the landlord because he either doesn’t have a driver as smart as Chandan who knows where this street is, or he doesn’t have the time to wait for 2 minutes like a lady of leisure. When I got back in Chandan asked how much I paid and said they are normally 40. I had considered fighting the guy at the shop but in the end decided a little over a dollar was not really worth negotiating.

In a cruel twist of irony, today was the first time I locked myself out. The maid was here when I left and I was running around making sure all our valuable possessions were safely locked away and I was preoccupied with worrying about if it was ok to leave the new maid alone. But as she came recommended from Vivian, I just asked that she lock the door behind her, not giving my keys another thought until I was in the elevator on my way back up. Back down to the parking garage where Chandan had taken off his white Hertz shirt and was in an orange and blue t-shirt and was chatting with another driver. I told him we needed to go to IBM because I had locked myself out. There are many times, when I forget why I ever complained about this apartment simply because it is close to Sir’s work but today I was particularly happy we chose this place. Fifteen minutes later Chandan had dropped me off at the lobby, changed back into his Hertz ensemble and we were on our way home with Sir’s new key.

Today is Thursday, so of course I was coming home from my tea with the ladies. It was a bit chaotic however, because all of the Christmas Bazaar committees were having their meetings to be sure everyone was ready for Saturday. As it turns out, I might be the MVP of the Sound, Lights and Power committee. It consists of me and Edith. Edith assured me that I wouldn’t be wrapped in lights, looking for power cords or generators to combat the frequent Bangalore power outages while the Christmas carolers sing for no one to hear. They have hired the same company they did for the past few years, to take care of everything. Although Edith did leave me with the always ominous, “don’t worry, we’ve never had a problem before.” I think all I really have to do is stand there and watch the Company they hired do their thing.

We also got our OWC monthly newsletter/magazine with an article by yours truly. A while ago, they asked for some volunteers to write and/or edit so I had to report on the Diwali fiesta in October. It was all of 300 words but maybe this will be my big break. I can add to my resume that I’m published in an exclusive newsletter for the discerning readers of the overseas women of Bangalore.

I’m going to some “sari trunk show” tomorrow. Maybe this will be my next “assignment.”

A Momentous Day

Well, alls quiet on the Southwest Asian front. The water is running, the maids are busy confusing me, the internet isn’t working and lots of strange people having been ringing the doorbell. But still, a momentous day.

No more word about the water situation and since it’s running in our apartment, we’re not asking too many questions. But most establishments – stores, as well as restaurants – seem to be operating as usual. Although at the cool ex-pat pool party, we did meet one girl who lives in a part of town that has a water shortage so she actually has to call her landlord anytime she needs water to tell him to turn it on. My list of all I am thankful for just keeps growing.

The new maid-girl showed up again today at 8 so I said, “aren’t you supposed to be at Vivian’s – the other Madam?”
“Oh, yes, Madam. I come at 10.”
“Actually, why don’t you just come tomorrow,” I said drawing an arch with my index finger hoping this is a universal sign for tomorrow.
“Today. 10?”
“No. Tomorrow.”
“Ah, ok, ok. Tomorrow. 6?”
She obviously doesn’t know that ladies of leisure do not get up at 6. “No, 10 tomorrow is good.”
“Tomorrow. 10.”
“Yes.”
“Ah, ok, ok. No problem, Madam.”
She hesitated then said, “Ironing?”
Vivian also uses her for her cleaning and ironing needs and I had said we might be interested in that. She outsources to someone else but she only charges 3 rupees per piece (I’m not sure if she gets a commission on that). I think 10 rupees is about 25 cents so you do the math. Ironing is more of an issue here because when we get his shirts back from the “dry cleaner,” they are folded and in a brown paper bag which makes us question if they are really “dry cleaning” or just washing them. When we first arrived I asked Chandan if he would take me to one of the hotels for dry cleaning but he kind of laughed and said that that was “very expensive.” He said that there is a place by IBM where he will take them and since then, I give him the shirts and a few days later, he hands me the paper bag with a shirt in need of ironing. So I gave her a shirt and we’ll see how it goes.

Shortly after she left, the phone rang. It was someone saying what sounded to me like, “Bernard Cook.” When I repeated that he said, “Cook. Cook.” I repeated in question form, “Cook? Cook?” This went on for a minute or two before I said I was sorry and he hung up. Not long after that, the doorbell rang and it was the man from the phone, “Bernard Cook.” I told him I was sorry but I didn’t understand. He then moved to the atrium of the building and yelled something to the guard who sits at the entrance. All I could make out was “204” which is our apartment number. He repeated “cook” a couple more times and I did my best to try to decipher, “do I need a cook? You are a cook? Bernard Cook has a package for me? You’re a relative of Captain Cook?” But in the end, he just smiled and walked away.
About an hour after that, the doorbell rang again, this time it was one of the security guards holding a clipboard and pen asking me for my car number. Obviously he didn’t realize that ladies of leisure get driven around. They can’t possibly remember license plate numbers. I told him, “I don’t know the number.” But he must have heard, “I don’t have a car,” because he said, “no. Car downstairs.” I repeated that I didn’t know it but I could get it for him later. That was too much for him and he too, just walked away. I must be getting quite the reputation around here.

The maid-boy came about 4 today and I’m wondering if he is suspecting he’s got competition on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Although, even if he knew, I’m not sure he’d think of it as “competition.”

Sir had a meeting today in a different building with the head of all of IBM India. If Sir is kind of a big deal, this guy must be a really big deal so I didn’t mind too much that he monopolized Chandan today. What we ladies of leisure have to put up with sometimes is just awful. Imagine - stranded without a driver! But really I didn’t mind because it marked a very important day – my first solo trip in a rickshaw. I’ve always been with Sir or Vivian but today I had to do all the navigating and negotiating by myself. Both my drivers however, used the meter so I didn’t have to negotiate. Better yet, it was almost the same price going both ways. There are supposedly people who check the meters (and who can potentially issue hefty fines) but I’m convinced there are plenty of autos out there with faulty meters. Coming home though is always tricky because we can’t really pronounce our street – Taverekere. I tried it with multiple pronunciations before giving up and asking him just to take me to the Forum Mall. From there, I just walked the rest of the way home. Looks like they are fixing the sidewalk and they recently paved one of the side roads. It’ll be a completely different city before we leave. You better book your flights now before it becomes just like New York.