Happy President's Day

In honor of President's Day, I took the day off from blogging and got a pedicure instead. I'm sure Abe and George would be pleased to know I that even though I'm in India, I still took time to observe and celebrate their birthdays with a treat to myself after a tough weekend of sitting in front of the computer trying to plan some trips. I tell you what, being a travel agent ain't easy.

I've been trying to book a trip to Goa on the West coast of India - a popular beach resort area - for days now. I've literally been pouring over reviews, multiple "discount" websites trying to figure out if we want to stay in the more lively (or chaotic) North or the more low key (or boring) South. I have identified three problems (in addition to the north or south debate) that have made this a particularly difficult weekend to book:
1. As a popular vacation destination, there are plenty of places to stay but dare I say, too many.
2. Everyone has an opinion. There are lots of reviews on each place but they are as varied as opinions on the best restaurant in NYC. Occasionally, I've been lucky enough to come across all similar complaints, "everything was great but the service" but most have mixed reviews. I'm not sure though, if this has encouraged me to start writing reviews on places we stay or discouraged me. On the one hand, the more reviews you read, the better you know what your getting into but, on the other hand, the more reviews you read, the more confused you can become.
3. We're beginning to realize that most expats in Bangalore seem to have unlimited funds and unlimited amounts of time to vacation so when asking for tips or recommendations, we tend to get people who can afford $350+ for a room or can afford to negotiate a package deal that requires you to stay 4 nights.

But alas, finally, after days of researching and going back and forth we finally settled on a place, in the south but not too far south, that looks like it's got a lovely pool and beach location. So we leave Saturday and will be back Monday night.

So we'll still have Friday night free if we want to make a return trip to the Hard Rock. We were led in on the left side of the velvet rope outside the world-renowned "Cafe" and walked into an old stone building. To the right, there was the bar area with a stage for the live bands that are not allowed to play in no-boogie Bangalore, and to the left was the restaurant area. The building itself, I think used to be an old museum but it has the feel of an old bank. And of course, as with all Hard Rock Cafes, there was plenty of music memorabilia decorating the beautiful stone work. Apparently Bengaluru is not tops on the list of the most popular or critically acclaimed artists but does seem to draw quite a buzz from 1980s heavy metal bands. Most of the items displayed were from artists I had never heard from until Sir explained that it was the guitarist in Warrant or the drummer from White Snake or the bassist from Black Sabbath. We were aware of the Indians LOVE of the death metal based on the shelves of CD stores and the limited number of artists who have come to Bangalore to play, trying to relive the glory days of the 1980s. So it was only fitting that the Hard Rock Bengaluru paid tribute to these bad bands of decades past. The music however, was surprisingly good. We're pretty sure it's the only place in Bangalore that plays music made after 1990 (and not according the Rule 11 necessarily light music). The menu was a mix of American and Indian food. There were of course popular favorites like nachos (that weren't half bad) and onion rings as well as paneer masala wraps and chicken curry. The drinks and the appetizers are the only things that might bring you back. We had margaritas - though we could have opted for a plethora of fruity drinks and the "American classic, Long Island Iced Tea."

But the company was good. George got us invited to a summer home outside of Helsinki owned by our pregnant Finnish friends and Liam made me very glad that I did not start working for his dodgy company. He started one story by telling us, "well, we were in all black because it was Friday." Everyone in the company wears all black on Friday for reasons he wasn't too clear in sharing. But the all black wasn't the highlight of the story. The highlight was that 50 of these employees, in all black, went to someone's house or office to confront someone who'd done someone in the company wrong. I'm not sure how much of a brawl ensued or if it was just the intimidation factor they were hoping to achieve. I started listening halfway through the story so I didn't catch the whole thing. But Liam and his brother Justin, who also works there, claim that that sort of thing happens all the time. "Well, half our employees are part of the Indian mafia." Who knew such a thing existed in this peace-loving, non-violent, pro-democratic society? There was another story about the cops coming to the office because of some domestic dispute gone wrong involving more than one of their employees who had started a torrid love affair. "It's a shady company to begin with, nevermind that I'm running the office in India, which is full of shady characters and shady business." I'm glad I'm not mixed up in all that. Though, I must admit, part of me longs for the good stories I could tell after spending just a couple of days a week there.

Other than that, our weekend was pretty low key. We started working on our tennis game again. We got some cheap rackets and went down to the courts in our complex. I blame my poor play on the cheap rackets and my healing hand wound. But, much like my golf game, I have high hopes for the future.

We were interrupted on our lazy Sunday with a knock on the door. It was the maid-girl's friend. I still don't know her name but she is unusually short and always smiling. She must work for the man next door who I've only seen twice, in the mornings, getting his paper with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth and scowl on his face. At least, I think she works for him. She is in and out of the apartment all day but I also see her in and out of other buildings in our complex and running back and forth from the little store. I think she must be a cook and maid. Anyway, she knocks on our door and immediately starts talking very fast. "Hello ma'am. Aka laka maka..." I can tell something is bothering her even though she continues to smile and walks right in. Come to find out, she locked herself out of the apartment next door. At first I thought she was asking if we had the key but I think she was just explaining that the key was inside. She goes out to our balcony and hangs over the edge like she trying to activate her "go, go gadget arms" but doesn't hang very far because she is so short. In a flash she is back in our place saying, "one minute madam, one minute." She goes out to the atrium area, careful to leave our door open, and yells something to the guy at the front desk. She continues talking to him long enough that we assume she's worked something out and it's ok to shut our door. A few minutes after we resume our vegging, with the door shut but not locked, she's in our place again with a boy probably no older than 17, again saying things we can't understand and aren't even sure if they're directed at us or the boy. Before we can say, "oh sure, come in, welcome, how can we help," the two of them are out on our balcony hanging over the edge again. The boy then climbs over our balcony and stretches one arm and leg to the balcony next door while holding on to our balcony with the other arm and leg. A minute later he is gone and she is shuffling out of our house with a quick and cheery, "thank you madam, thank you madam."

I guess we know what to do if we ever get locked out.