Made in India

One of the sadder phrases you see on goods here is "Export Quality," as though having a sturdy, well-crafted product is something not meant for India. If you want high-quality goods like we get in the states, you generally end up paying as much or more than in the US.

Before I came back to India, I thought getting clothes here would be relatively easy--I got a great pair of pants here last time. In other posts, I've discussed how I was too big and the wrong complexion for ready-made clothes. Also, Western clothes tend to be of poor quality and/or expensive (for example I bought a great pair of jeans for $30 US).


Please Shoot Me.

Although I found a simple dress a few days before Christmas, I hesitated to buy it because it had a bad zipper, and when I went back Christmas night, it had sold. I shopped around for a while for dresses and shoes and found nothing except more bad zippers. My friend H agreed to take me shopping the next day since I didn't have much time.

I spent about six hours riding and walking around Bangalore, trying on poorly made, over-priced, wrongly-proportioned garments, one of which I got stuck in and had to have help escaping. In another shop, an alarmed shop keeper blurted "No--it is too small!" when H handed a cute dress to me. Even 15 pounds lighter, I'm still too big for Bangalore.

NONE of the ready-made Western dresses looked great, and all of them were $100-$1000 USD, most I wouldn't pay $30 for at Ross. Shoes were a complete loss. I'm
waiting until I get to China, rather than spending $30-50 USD on ill-fitting, REALLY poorly made plastic crap in styles that are either terrible or ill-suited to the freezing weather in Beijing. I would have paid a couple hundred dollars for a pair of good closed-toe heels--shoes are something I try to buy infrequently and of high quality--but you can't find them here.

Why to buy ready-made clothes

I ended hiring a tailor to make a dress. It seems like having clothes custom-made should be kind of fun and end up fitting perfectly, in addition to being less expensive than ready-made items. Unfortunately, the tailor doesn't come to you, you have to know what you want, and you have to make a lot of trips. I had to make three trips to the tailor, plus a side trip to get the fabric.

H made the process as easy as she could--she knew the tailors and where they were, asked the right questions, etc. Her tailor wasn't available, so we went to Commercial Street to try two others. The nicer, more expensive tailor was too booked for New Year's, so we had to go to the second choice, a mother and daughter whom H doesn't like much (with good reason) but who had time before I left for China.

The first trip was while we were already on Commercial Street. I told her what I wanted, got specs for acceptable fabric type (plain silk only), get initial measurements taken, run out and buy fabric and bring it back, have detailed measurements taken, and then run out to get the liner fabric and bring it back because she didn't mention liners in the first place. All of that took about 90 minutes (plenty of fabric stores on Commercial Street, fortunately). The fabric cost about $15-20, and the stitching cost about $30. I spent another $10 on auto rides.

The daughter called me back Friday to have a fitting, where I had them raise the midriff band and take in the bodice a small amount. I tried to be friendly but efficient, pointing out that raising the band would deemphasize the width of my ribcage. She ignored me, had me get out of the dress, and I moved on. That second trip only took 20 minutes plus an hour's worth of to and fro. The mother called me the next day to say the dress was ready. I returned a third time to pick up the dress, which took TWO HOURS, not including the 90 minutes to get there and back.

"I am not an animal!"
Many of you may not realize that I have a large ribcage (that's not a euphemism). It happens to be less tapered than a normal ribcage. Though the tailor took measurements of my ribcage at many points, when I tried on the finished dress, I had to have someone else zip it and couldn't breath. I gave it back to the shop owner's mother, and she snapped at the tailor to retake my measurements and let the seams out. I sat down in the shop and worked for a while.



When the dress came back, I tried it on and it fit fine around the ribcage, but the fall in the back looked goofy. I sent the dress back for adjustment and sat down to work again. Durign this time, I overheard the shop owner's mother talk to her staff and to customers. She was sweet as honey to the customers (until the topic of money came up), and as rude and disdainful of her staff as she could be. At one point, she tossed an empty bag at a woman on the floor who was hand-sewing beads onto a top. The owner's mother could have set the bag aside, or even tossed it next to her, but she seemed to make a little extra effort to put the bag in the way of the woman doing the beading. I'm not sure if I've ever seen anybody so deliberately express the concept of someone's "station."

Third Time's The Charm?
The a different tailor came back with the dress. The fall in the fall in the back was fixed, but the zipper split when I put it on, and the sides looked asymmetric . The mother, looking annoyed at this point, sent the tailor into the nearest work room to fix the dress. He then carefully pressed the dress to fix the lop-sided appearance. The mother put the dress into a plastic bag to indicate that no more adjustments would be made. I took the dress out of the bag and tried it again.

The dress fit well enough that I took it, since I wanted to get home and/or to GK and the mother wasn't going to be able to do much more with it. The dress it mediocre--I probably should have used the brocade pattern for an accent band only. Tiny stitch holes are in the silk, and it still doesn't fit me that well. I'll have to have the seams let out when I get home, since it seems unlikely that I'll stay this thin. After seeing how they treated the staff, even if the dress had been perfect, I don't think I would go back. Instead, I'll go to H's preferred tailor and have shirts and pants made at reasonable prices, and I'll be able to give them shirts I already own as a pattern.

H made me matching brass jewelry that is much better than the dress. It'll only stay bright for a few weeks, but it's very cute and well-matched!

I did not shoot my eye out

I had a great Christmas! Two stockings, many pancakes, and a viewing of A Christmas Story. I got to make a Lego monkey and eat Pepperidge Farm cookies. We ate lovely pan-seared fish for dinner, and then we went to a rooftop party with a bonfire (uh--what fire code?). Also, I found out today that my visa went though, so I'll be off to Beijing next week.

Santa was here!

I had a Christmas stocking waiting for me this morning!

Merry Christmas from Bangalore!

Yes, Virginia, Santa Claus is in India, as are Christmas trees, ornaments, and Christmas carols. To be fair, the Christmas carol ringtones and reverse tones (when cars back up, they sometimes play music) happen year-round, but I've noticed an upsurge.

Many of the shops--be they owned by Hindus, Muslims, or Christians--have been decorated, and I have gotten Christmas texts and emails from people at both deployments. It's not quite the same as being at home, but I love that India celebrates almost ANY holiday. The Hanuka showing was a bit weak, but 6000 out of 1.1 billion is tough to play out, though I did have a belated celebration involving latkes on Eid, so that should count for something.

I'll probably work from home tomorrow, and I hear rumors of traditional Jewish Christmas paella being prepared.

If You Like "Can't Coach Fat, You'll LOVE..."

You may be surprised to learn that the internet has many, many blogs. In fact, my original idea was to not write any individual posts, but instead just reference another foreigner-in-India blog. My experiences are not actually that unique--just google "ex-pat blog India" to see the same stories told by different people.

Snakes on a Bike

I only read a couple blogs, on of which is Ride South by my insane friend Dave who is cycling to Tierra del Fuego. He has a fantastic Q&A with some elementary school kids. For the record, I have only seen one snake in India at the park. It was in the water, and I don't know if it was poisonous.

Punkassblog is the other blog I read from time to time. It's maintained by a friend of mine from college, but it has multiple contributors covering feminism, politics, and sometimes material sciences. Kyso, whom I've never met, would probably get a marriage proposal from me, were it not for the fact that she's a lady.


Now if only Bangalore had web access at coffee shops...

The internet is pretty much third after air and water in terms of importance for me. About 70% of my work is done online for or using Mifos.org, Skype or IM, our internal wiki pages, and email. The internets keep me somewhat connected to home, since I can read The New York Times or Seattle papers online. Interesting fact I learned this morning: you can pay to get an article put in an Indian newspaper (and frequently must pay).

I have a few people at home who check in on me and send me pictures of animals in ridiculous outfits. I'm able to talk on Skype (you can even call me at a Seattle number and it'll ring through to Skype and my cell phone), and a few people check up on me daily on IM (and send me drunken SMS's from time to time). If I could get some of Pete's Carmelitas (a.k.a. BEST FREAKING COOKIES EVER and undoubtedly how I will restore my missing pounds), it'd be just like home.

I Am Legend

So, now that my silly 16-hour days are over, all the NRI's, NIR's, and I's I know have gone to the US, Turkey, Goa, or other locales. I couldn't pull a last minute trip together for this week ("Sorry, madam. No flights anywhere for South East Asia"). However, I am the Queen of Opportunistic Travel, so I managed to tag along on a wedding trip to China in January instead of traveling this week. Cross your fingers that my visa goes through.

Lesson Learned: Say TOURIST

I tried to go to Hampi yesterday, since I had to cancel the trip last weekend because of work. Unfortunately, I put my Bangalore address on the ticket application. Then, when asked what kind of visa I had, I said business and pulled out my passport (idiot move). As it turns out, the Indian railways only reserve seats for foreigners who are tourists or students. Those of us with B on ours visas have to sit on the waiting list with the Indians or book tickets months in advance.

"But I'm a foreigner."
"It must be tourist visa."
"But what about this part here--that says tourist visa."
"NO. It says here 'B' for 'Business.' Tourist says T; Student says S. Yours says 'B.'"
"But I'm a foreigner?"
"No."
"But it says tourist visa?"
"No."

I was 53 on the waiting list. I did not get the overnight train. I probably will have to go back and lie to get a seat, as the trains are booked out for months (to quote a friend "You're screwed. You're never getting to Hampi by train.") Alternately, I'll just take an overnight bus or hire a driver instead.

Replace Me!

It looks like someone may be hired to replace me here in India (and possibly to overlap with me), so if you want to do what I do, you should email me. You might even get to work in other countries, too!

It's Schedule H for "Healthy"

I got more and more fatigued through the week, in part because I was working too much and not sleeping enough. The other problem was I hadn't yet shaken whatever I picked up the week prior (which I believed had cleared out). Any time I ate, my stomach hurt, and I couldn't finish my food. If I didn't eat, my stomach also hurt. It was getting more difficult to rally, to the point where I had to lie down all the time just because I felt tired and full. I couldn't even finish sushi Friday night.

I always wanted to be a doctor...

Before work on Saturday, I researched my symptoms online(result: likely a parasite, probably Giardia or some other protist), found the names of the drugs (Tinidazole or Metroindazole), and cross-referenced the information on several sites (CDC, etc.) to make sure the drugs were commonly used (they are) and not overly toxic (OK, but alcohol will cause projectile vomiting). I felt comfortable to skip the long trip to the doctor (generally with my symptoms, they treat you before they test, and I didn't have enough oomph to get myself across town). After dragging my lethargic self to GK and working a few hours, I stopped at a pharmacy on the way home, gave them the drug names, and for about 55 cents US had myself a cure.

The blister pack clearly says some rubbish about "Schedule H substance: Only issue with script from licensed physician," but since I had taken the trouble to write the names in my notebook to show the nice young men at the pharmacy, that's the same as several years of advanced study, right?

I spent a while at home rereading the dosage recommendations and looking up the warnings and advisories. In India, when you get a prescription, you get the blister pack and nothing else--no box, no instructions, no "take with food," and no dosage. Fortunately, all that information is available on the internet from the drugs companies and several doctorsl resource sites. I also skimmed the paper on the most effective treatment methods. Take aways: One-time, 2 gram dose, taken with food. Drink plenty of water and no alcohol. I emailed Sean that I was taking drugs, just in case I ended up having an allergic reaction or something, but the warnings, side-effects and advisories were along the same lines as other anti-cootie meds I have taken (tough on the GI tract, might cause hives, possible tingling or numbness in the extremities). Also, it's one of the drugs travel docs prescribe to bring as a just-in-case-something-nests-in-your-gut item.

Back in Business

It's tough to say if the medicine made me more tired or if I took it just in time. I spent most of my weekend lying in bed or on the couch working. However, Sunday I was able to consume food and not feel like my bloated belly was going to go all Ridley Scott. The only side effect seems to have been a metallic taste in my mouth all day (which persists today).

I can't imagine what it's like to get parasites all the time and not be able to get the drugs to fix them. Some things you can build up an immunity to, but for the most part, the taps here have critters in them that people who don't have fancy water filters like I do are going to get at least a few times a year, and most of them can't afford to go to the doctor and can't afford not to work. One of the things you see on some MFI loan applications is "water source" (mainly for data gathering purposes), and water education practices are critical in a lot of areas, along with oral re-hydration therapy techniques (boil water, mix in some sugar and salt--presto! You have Gatorade for a sick baby).

Now, back to work wit renewed vigor and fewer internal companions...

Why Don't You Blog More?

I try to edit the entires a bit before posting, and I usually write them when I am stuck without something to do (loss of internet, long car trip, stuck with a few wasted minutes waiting for someone to join a meeting). Lately, I've had good connectivity and not much to say.

To give a general update, I have been working quite a bit. When I'm not working, I get away from the laptop. Also, my life is pretty ho-hum, cricket chachas notwithstanding--I either work all day at home and break for a quick meal, power nap, or workout, or I get up, work, go to GK to work, come home, work/workout. Sometimes I work at different locations (fancy hotels, BabaJob), but for another couple weeks, I'll be putting in the time (and let's hope I'm doing some good). At at that point, I might go on a short trip somewhere else in Asia.

I do make a point of going out a few days or nights--LONG brunch on Sunday, cricket Saturday, drinks/dinner Saturday, Wednesday, and Thursday nights--and put the work around the activities.

I've been having sleep issues again as well as some illness, so I'm pretty tired. So, yeah--I am as boring in India as I am at home. :)

Foreigner Fame

Saturday: Cricket!
Clever LT got us hooked up with tickets to the India/Pakistan test match. Here's me with Pakistan's Chacha Cricket. If you were watching, you would have seen us on TV with him, too.



I'll try to post something else about what the actual match was like.

Hubris

After publishing that I hadn't had any stomach trauma, I consumed something disagreeable or just picked up a 24-hour virus. I seem to be fine (though tired)and didn't resort to antibiotics.

"Water, water everywhere..."

At most lunch places, you eat with your hands. To be hygienic and polite, one always washes ones hands, even if it's just one of the stand-up places. You will find a signs for HAND WASH and DRINKING WATER. HAND WASH is usually a small sink and a tub of liquid soap. DRINKING WATER is filtered and/or UV treated water. The faucet has cups next to it from which everyone can drink and then return the cup, but no one touches a mouth to the cup.

Strangely, spoons tend to get wiped and placed into a bin of water when plates are cleared. You then draw the same spoons out of the water (my fantasy is that they are washed and then put in the water to keep flies off).

[Jan '08: Turns out my hopes are true! they are washed properly and then stuck in the water, probably for that very reason.]

I drink filtered water instead of bottled water at restaurants and home. Almost everywhere filters tap water before serving, so the risk is pretty low. After a time, you get a sense of where you should and should not drink water. Also because I am not traveling (and can go be sick and miserable at home), I have abandoned "peel it, boil it, or forget it," though most Indian veggies are peeled AND boiled. I am more conservative outside of Bangalore, though.

Cooties
To date, I've had no major gastrointestinal trauma, other than eating too much rich food or getting dehydrated. Malaria medication (no longer taken), Western food and red wine are the most likely things to give me stomach aches.

What gets you are coughs, sore throats and sniffles. Everywhere people are coughing and hacking from disease or pollution. `And, when you are poor and work as a cook, you don't get sick days, so people are likely sick and working in kitchens. These days I feel fine but have a persistent pollution cough. Our cleaning lady seems to always be coughing and sniffling, and I think I have caught her cold at least once. Luckily, no severe fevers or anything worse than mild fatigue so far, though I'm pretty sure this post about guarantees I end up with dengue or something.

Bless My Taxes

Many people assume cities in India are dirty, confusing places with dogs and cattle roaming the street. This impression is--with the exception of a few areas--entirely correct. In a few days, you get used to the dirt and realize that a lot of it results from unpaved roads, a dry climate, and a bit of wind that turns everything dusty. The trash is a problem in many parts of the city because Indian cities lack regular public garbage collection, so you end up with trash piles like the one shown [Note: to be added later]. Periodically, a truck will come by and pick up the garbage and take it somewhere. Other times, people will just burn the garbage because they can't do much else.

Bangalore is not bad everywhere, and you get used to it anyway. The scent of human urine is more prevalent in downtown Seattle than in most of Bangalore. You just move past the smelly things like garbage piles, piss walls, and business men wearing too much cologne.

Piss Walls?
In India, men can pee in public all they like. A lot of times, some walls receive more urine than others. Some corners in the cities have waste-high outdoor stalls by the side of the road where a gentleman may piss and have it go directly into the gutter. A photo from outside the Muslim cemetery near GK:
"

Women do not pee in public if they can help it, though small children squat most anywhere. I can always find an at-least-as-clean-as-a-comparable-North-American bathroom, whether they have Western commodes or porcelains squat toilets (the latter being preferable to hovering). TP? Bring your own or go local (You can Google Indian bathrooms for tips and techniques).

And from the Worst Idea EVER files

Having an acoustic guitar "just to play" in a Barista coffee shop. As if the cafe-going young men of the world need encouragement to appear soulful and sensitive. What happened to chess sets?

Thank god most people don't play Indigo Girls songs here . Unfortunately, someone did pick up the thing and start strumming, and it didn't even cover up the "All Love Songs, All the Time" music playing in the background.

On the upside, I got Indian ketchup with my panini.

Doh!

No water.
No phone.
No internet.
I'm just waiting for my laptop to explode and my books to catch on fire.

Picture Pages

If you want to see more photos than are posted here, you can email me. I'm not a huge fan of publicly search-able photos, nor are some of my friends, so I'm not using an open link.

Sadly, my camera battery is nearly dead, so I'm going to have to figure out what to do before I start really traveling (Nepal, Bhutan, and Bangladesh are likely to be my post-work travel locales).

I will never buy a cheap camera again. I intended it to be somewhat crappy at $120, but it actually is too lousy to even get a decent shot off with any consistency, the battery never lasted long enough, and it doesn't have image stabilization (though Buy.com indicated it did). Moreover, I have severe SLR envy.

Uh--You guys know I'm not exactly roughing it, right?

After a few Thanksgiving phone calls, I gather some people think I am "enduring" Bangalore well. While I'm sure I could milk that idea for care packages, I am obligated to make it clear that my life in India is at least as easy as my life in Seattle.

The Wrong Impression: "I work 6-7 days a week. I must go through five auto drivers before I find one who will take me to the client site. Everything takes longer here. The pollution is so bad I can't run outside. I haven't found any soccer teams, and the treadmills squeak. My laundry just returned a shirt with the same toothpaste stain on it. I can't travel alone after midnight..."

Just Send My Tiara
I do very little laundry or cooking. I sleep in a king-sized bed. My apartment has three huge bedrooms, two bathrooms, and marble floors that we have someone else clean. I live in a walled compound that includes a parking garage, a swimming pool, basketball courts, and a mini skate park. I have air conditioning, but I've never used it because the weather's been so great.

I never have to drive. If I am out too late, my friends have a driver take me home,
let me sleep over, or ride to my house with me. While riding in autos, I work or read books--I've gotten more reading done here than I have in months. Sometimes I get to ride on scooters and motorcycles and get through the city quickly. I can hire a driver if I ever needed one.

Work is whenever, wherever, and as much as I like. I can work from home most days, and my commute is opposite the traffic. The IT Director at GK is spectacular and patient with me. The client site has a huge jackfruit tree growing in the courtyard. Every time I go in or out of Grameen Koota, children shout "America! America!" and want me to smile and wave at them.


"Damn, it feels good to be a Gangsta"
Meeting other people is easy. I go out three to five times a week. People buy me drinks and dinners all the time, and I got spoiled on my birthday. Wednesday night we played poker, ate chicken, and drank beer while shooting pellet guns and listening to NWA. I had two Thanksgiving dinners.

Almost all of the 20+ restaurants within walking distance of my house deliver. I eat South Indian, North Indian, Indian Chinese, Thai, Chinese Chinese, Malaysian, pizza, Italian, and steak. I also know where to get sushi and Belgian beers any time I need them. Sushi is the only meal that costs more than $20 USD, and usually I spend <$1 USD per meal. I am tired of Italian food only.

I can talk to my family and friends by IM or Skype when I miss them. TM thoughtfully hauled twenty pounds of shoes and cranberries to Bangalore for me, all of which was packed by RB and my dad. Friends at home make time to talk when I miss them. Ashlock even volunteered to do a small project for GK.

All this AND Diwali?
I received an hour-long pedicure for $9 USD. I see fireworks at least once a week. I get special treatment because I am foreign far more often than I am hassled for it. Auto drivers and clerks ask me where I am from and tell me about their relatives in the United States. Service is different than the US but far better than Seattle.

So, yes, we have power outages weekly (that's why I brought an extra laptop battery), and I'm on water rations for four days (I have additional places to shower and extra bottles in the fridge), and my new sport is professionally annoying auto drivers, but adjusting was easy. As long as you are patient enough, India always takes care of you.

Amy: 2 Mosquitoes: 10

We have a lovely apartment, but it appears to be mosquito-permeable. My suspicion is that they come out through the drains. We keep the windows closed starting late afternoon, and we have wee mosquito-toxic Plug-ins. The apartment complex gases the shrubbery and building lobbies every night at 6 PM. However, when you live somewhere that never gets colder than 60 degrees that has open sewers, there's no getting away from them.

I killed two at my desk tonight, but not before getting TEN BITES on my right leg. Thank god for After Bite. I can't imagine what it's like living someplace where the mosquitoes (or malaria) are even more of a problem, like Mumbai or Minnesota.

Like Jaws but More Annoying

The itchiness fades pretty quickly (especially if I don't scratch and apply After Bite), but sleeping in a room with a mosquito is awful. The tiny thing makes a shrill noise loud enough to keep me from falling asleep, mainly because I know I am about to get bitten on whatever flesh is exposed (usually only hands, ears and face). And--in an unfortunate event of literary appropriateness--another one just landed on my back as I was typing this entry. Other than my general lack of talent for falling asleep, mosquitoes are my top source of insomnia.

More press, this time for Clover

My brushes with fame continue, as one of my favorite gadgets (and an Atlas client), the Clover coffee machine, gets press in The Economist.

On the topic of coffee...
India has two big chains, Barista and Coffee Day. They are both Starbucks quality (over-roasted beans, really sweet drinks), but they do a better job of serving things at the right temperature, albeit MUCH more slowly than at home.

The food they serve, however, is far superior to food at a chain coffee place in the US because 1) Again--the temperature is always right, and 2) if you get a sandwich, it comes with delicious Indian ketchup (similar to American ketchup but made with real sugar, a touch of chili, and possibly crack). In my northwest coffee snob way, I roll my eyes at foreigners who miss Starbucks.

Michael, please have my Stumptown ready upon my return.

Language Updation

A mere two months in India, and my vocabulary is already changing. I swear much less, mainly. My name is now pronounced something more like "Eh-mee." I participate in things at "timings" of the day.

A friend has gotten me into the habit of calling my auto drivers, security guards, and any male service person "Boss" (pronounced more like "bose", with a long o and an s) As in: "Hai,Boss--where's Lavelle Road?" Note that you pronounce the name of the street "Lavelly," and, no, not like the Japanese "hai." Also, if I am talking to an auto driver, "road" gets half an "l," like "rload." To give turning directions, I'll say "rligh-teh," "lef-teh," and "strai-teh."

At work: updation and upgradation. These words are perfectly acceptable in Indian English, but they still make me flinch.

I now "take" meals ("Madame, you will take breakfast?"). If I eat a lunch, I order South Indian meals, though I'm only getting one. I also tell waiters that "filter water" is okay for me to drink. Instead of bell pepper, I eat capsicum, and I generally have curd (yoghurt) with every meal.

We don't know why, but adding "only" to the end of a sentence seems to make ideas more clear, like "I am here only." I'm experimenting with adding adverbs to the end of sentences in general.

I use the Indian head bob (just Google it--a million ex-pats whine about it) to indicate yes and maybe. I have no idea if I use it correctly, but I haven't had any problems yet.

I can get away with anything by saying "No problem!" and giving a huge smile. I'm pretty sure it only works because I am wealthy/female/foreign.

NYT Article on Mifos

The latest New York Times article on Mifos, complete with a photo of George looking as nerdy as possible.

More Diwali and Birthday in Bangalore

I took Saturday off and had a mellow day. Tarang, who is from Bangalore but now lives in Seattle--took me out for lunch and coffee as well as delivered my precious cranberries and Pepperidge Farm stuffing. Let's all give a little love to Tarang, Rodger, and Dad for being a good logistics team. I have a full supply of Emergen-C, my hiking boots, much needed files, and another credit card. Also important, I got small kitten stickers to be surreptitiously placed on friends' phones.

After a Biriyani lunch, I wandered around and finally found a shop selling shower curtain rods, so now Max can be spared damp TP. It was a big triumph--I've been asking every time I pass a home or plumbing store without luck (and hopefully they will have another one for Jimmy when I go back).

Unfortunately, I failed to find new a shirt. Even though now I am small enough to wear 10% of the shirts available, a lot of the colors look TERRIBLE on me (though they are great on local complexions, so I can't really fault the stores).


Mmmmm
Several of us went to 3 Storys (yes, spelled that way) and had really good coastal Indian food. I'm a huge fan of Indian coconut curries. Liz got me presents, someone bought me dinner, and now that I think about it, I haven't bought my own alcohol in forever. We chilled at a a nice roof car until last call, and then we went to a party at a friend's place. All in all, a good day.

Happy Diwali!

Diwali has started here. I know this because I hear firecrackers going off about every five minutes. From what I have been told so far, to properly celebrate Diwali, one should:

• Eat sweets
• Buy gold
• Set off ENORMOUS QUANTITIES OF FIREWORKS

Any holiday with fireworks is good by me.

Only One Thing Really Sucks Here

That was then
After my other trip to India, laundry was the one thing I was certain would go well for me. Maybe I was grubby from travel and my standards were lower, but I remember my clothes coming back clean, crisp, and on the same day.

This is now
We have tried three laundries. None of them manage to have clothes ready for us on the date stated on any consistent basis. We could get them to deliver instead of walking several blocks to check, but then you have to be here to answer the door.

Sometimes, my clothes smell less clean--though different--than when I dropped them off. Whites and brights are lost causes (the socks in the photo are from when I first arrived). If I want something white, I bleach it at home. Anything I don't want stretched or stained, I wash in a bucket in the shower and dry on the balcony.

The ironing is good, except when clothes come back with iron marks. The irons they use are generally pre-Depression Era devices that involve coals. We see women with large, flat carts pressing clothes on the street. IEverything comes back ironed--even sheets and towels.

All articles when finally returned--the record is three weeks and four visits to get back two pairs of socks--have tiny, hand-written tags matching the receipt. The wee tags are probably important because our clothes get dropped off at the cleaners, someone picks them up, and then they are taken somewhere to be washed in some body of water. We see women and children standing in the gutters washing clothing, though I have not seen any of mine there yet. I like to think my laundry is higher-end and maybe I get tap water instead of gutter water.

Washing clothes in the bucket gives you an appreciation for 1) North American water systems (yes, even Houston), and 2) the spin cycle. The water is cloudy from the tap and sometimes smells weird. I hand wash with Tide, and it dries out my hands. Wringing out a bucket of clothes is tedious and boring.

Dear May Tag Man, Are you single?
We could buy a washer for a couple hundred bucks, but I'd still be faced with wringing, and my clothes would still have to line-dry. All those "Spring-Fresh-I'm-A -Housewife-and-Happy-in-the-Sun" ads are crap. Line-dried clothes smell like mildew, pollution, or weird tap water, depending upon the weather, and they are crispy.

Dry cleaning is an inexpensive solution, but I'm not sure I can bring myself to dry clean all my clothes, in that even with US EPA standards, dry cleaning shops become Super Fund sites. I can't imagine India has any regulations (or any that are heeded), so I'll only use it for my white dress shirt.

On the bright side (sort of), my father tells me that my washer is limping, so when I come home, I may get to buy some sexy, new front-loader. Rrrrrowwwlll!

My Favorite Timings of the Day

(The power is out, so why not blog?)

Chai is one of my favorite things about working in India. If I go to the office, a nice lady or an office boy comes around at 11 and brings me a tiny cup with scalding, sweet chai. They come back and quietly pick up the cup. The same thing happens some time during the 3 o'clock hour, too.

If Liz and I go to a meeting, we almost always get a wee cup of chai AND some cookies.

I love India.


The chai in India is MUCH better than the chai you get at home. The tea is much stronger, and it's sweetened with sugar and not syrup (or whatever they sweeten chai with these days).

I'm considering opening chats and chai in Seattle. I just have to learn how to make purri.

Sweet!

I get English Premier League soccer on normal TV!

Having a Lovely Weekend--starting Wednesday

The weekend in Bangalore is a touch different, since many firms have business hours on Saturday and/or the over-achiever types I party with work Saturday anyway. Nonetheless, I always have nice weekends.

Good-bye, Nelson!
Thursday was Karnataka Day, so many of my friends had the day off. Hence, Wednesday several people met up at the 13th Floor for a send off of Nelson, who has to leave Bangalore after only 3 months to return to Dallas. He shall be missed.

I left when the shots came out, since I was working Thursday (and it was getting too late to take an auto).

Happy Karnataka Day
I celebrated Karnataka day by working away from the house and going to a department store (a very Bangalorean thing to do, apparently--it was PACKED). Coffee shops have nice sandwiches and power outlets for my laptop, plus I had a FANTASTIC veg panini. In India, all the food gets server at the proper temperature and crispness (not to mention Indian ketchup)! On the downside, I heard a lot of bad international dance hits from the last 10 years (think "Barbie Girl."). I also bought a shirt (since some ketchup ended up on mine) , wandered around Brigade Road, and hung out at a more different coffee shop.

...it's what's for dinner
Thursday night, some of the Bangalore Professionals (the Indian/ex-pat social group to which I belong) met up at a steak house. It was clean and kitschy and about as accurate of decor as you would find a Seattle restaurant posing as Texan. My steak--although not actually the filet mignon cut it was billed--was quite tasty. Since most other people were tired form the night before and I had a 12:30 AM conference call with Seattle, it was another early night.

TGIF (even if we do have to work Saturdays)
I spent Friday at GK having a VERY productive day. Any day that is productive--even when it starts with the auto driver making me walk the last kilometer to work--is a great day. All Bangalore fun aside, it's the work that is the most important thing to me.

Friday night I had a lovely Caribbean dinner at a restaurant in Indiranagar, and then went to a housewarming of a friend of a friend. Another early-but-tipsy night--home before midnight.

Some work and Some More Italian Food

Saturday I worked, tried to get my laundry, succeeded in getting everything but the pair of socks I tried to get the last time I picked up the laundry, and somehow managed to nap, too. I spent the evening at a shi-shi Italian/Western restaurant hosting an exhibition of a modern artist, and it was a lovely time. I met some Indians and more foreigners, had eminently drinkable Indian white wine and a tolerable Cab (that tasted nothing like a Cab), somehow managed to get a free dinner (thanks, Phil!) and a ride home from a friend's driver.


Just another Sunday
I feel a need to complete the weekend tale, though Sunday was spent around the house doing my end of month accounting and following up on work issues. I think I spoke maybe two sentences all day (hello and thank you to the maid) until I made a few evening phone calls. The solitude starts to make me a little weird, so I had better make an effort to interact more when working from home.

Paper plates, anyone?

Here's another look-I'm-in-India post: the disposable plates you can get on the street. I took this photo of the plate vendor at the KR City Market.

The plates are made from banana leaf. No bleaching, no printing--just leaves dried into the appropriate shape. It's not exactly the most hygienic approach, but here you learn to get over that. Another serving method is to use a flat, green banana leaf and serve food on it like a plate when you have South Indian meals (mmmm).



Here's a photo from close to the same stall where they're separating the banana components:




Also, to answer a previously asked question, "What is the weirdest thing you have smelled in India?" I would have to say it was the bulk banana sales stalls a few blocks away in the KR City market. Thousands of banana stalks, some of which are presumably rotting 1) does not smell like bananas the fruit at all, and 2) was a powerful enough smell to make me hurry to the next block, and I smell rotting garbage/sewage/animal matter daily.

Want to Help?

We are going to release version 1.1 soon, and we can use some more testing of the product. You should let me know if you want to help test.

And let's all praise Ashlock for her PhotoShop Phun on Phriday to help me get some logos together!

Other than this--it's pretty much the same

Things I Do in India that I Don't Do in Seattle
- Jaywalk
- Eat breakfast every day (a habit developed when I had to take malaria prophylaxis)
- SMS (Daily, hourly, by the minute...)
- Blog
- Drink more than once a month, in cars, before noon...
- Go dancing
- Shop to kill time
- Avoid eye contact
- Go to concerts
- Drink chai at least twice per day.
- Use a treadmill.
- Use a treadmill while breathing Malathion.


Things I Did in Seattle that I Don't Do in India
- Wear seat belts
- Operate vehicles
- Play sports
- Go out alone after 11:30
- Eat sushi (Bangalore has a couple places, but I haven't been to either)
- Shower for more than 6 minutes (the geyser only lasts so long)
- Pet random dogs (You can get mange here)
- Gain weight

Here's what a Center Meeting looks like

Liz snapped this photo when we were in Assam last month. I seeing what happens in the field, but it's really disruptive to have foreigners at the meetings. We are kind of weird, and the rumors start that we are giving the MFI more money, so sometimes the women expect more or larger loans.


When I go to branch offices to observe business processes, I try to make it clear to the staff that they shouldn't be nervous, as I work for them and am not like a regular foundation employee (who might be checking them out to give additional investment). Here's a shot of teh outside of an IIRM branch with IIRM staff and some of my GTC peeps. It's kind of a pity I didn't get the goat in the shot, just for effect:



And finally, a picture from near an urban center in Bangalore. It's probably the best picture I have taken (which isn't saying much, as my camera is crap and my photography is almost as bad). Kids love foreigners and having their pictures taken:



Every time I walk to GK when the school kids are out, they start laughing and say "HELLO!" and maybe run up to shake my hand and then laugh like it's the funniest thing ever and run back to their friends. I get a huge kick out of it every time.

Busy Week

I spent a lot of time with GK this week. Tuesday I was at GK, and Tuesday night I had ~4 hours of meetings with Seattle. Liz arranged a meeting Wednesday at another MFI where some friends work, and we got some great information on their software (we aren't pushing Mifos on them, just seeing what they like/dislike about it), as well as getting a chance to share ideas on some common projects. Thursday I was back at GK and had two hours of meetings that night, and Friday we were in the field until 10 PM, observing poorly connected branches and how Mifos performs at them. The trip information we got was well worth the long rides, plus Liz and I watched some of Casablanca on the way back into Bangalore.

Saturday I spent the day running errands, chasing down my ATM and PIN from FedEx (long, indignant story, but I got what I needed. India always comes through for you), shopping for costumes, and working in between. The ex-pats celebrated Halloween at a couple parties (including one co-hosted by Liz at another friend's house), and I was up until the wee hours. Today I had a mellow day hanging out with friends, having a nice big lunch, and getting Learn Kannada in a Month. I think it's going to take more than a month, in that the book's vowel pronunciation guides contradict one another.

I'll be getting busier and busier, as GK's current Mifos implementation team (IBM) is leaving, so I'll fill in while we look for another Mifos Specialist firm. Also, I'll start engaging in the Assam deployment, and every day AW, Liz or I think of more wiki, templates, and docs that need to be written. And--of course--I have my busy social calendar. Six months is flying by.

Who knew the blog title would be so apt?

I'm down to my last belt hole. I'm likely <140 and heading down below 130 in another month or so. I haven't had any digestive issues, I eat three or four meals a day, and I am still getting thinner. This process happens to a lot of people. The running theories:

1. Indian food is all made from scratch, so fewer preservatives and hormones in my food (not sure I buy this one)
2. Less high fructose corn syrup. Everything here is sweetened with cane sugar.
3. Fewer hydrogenated oils.
4. More exercise from walking (Nope--I walk less and bike not at all).
5. Vegetarian diet = low fat? No. Most of the food I eat is LOADED with ghee and/or other oils.


Upon my return, I won't be in the same shape as when I played three games a week, but at least I wont have much extra weight to carry around. You can't coach fat, people.

"Funny--you don't look like an Amy"

Someone tried to use at least one of my credit cards at Suganda Sagar Enterprises for about $17 USD. I think it's the hardware store near my house.

So, if I present my ID to you and am an Indian man, it's probably not me.

Chikmagalur

Having had productive Friday (Oct 18th), I decided at the last minute to join The Bangalore Professionals on last weekend's outing out to a coffee estate in Chikmagalur

Saddle Up
Liz and I left for the group rendezvous at 9:30 PM Friday night. After sitting in rainy, nasty traffic for 90 minutes, we got to the bar for "Let's party before we leave." I drank a post-traffic bourbon and chatted with new acquaintance Erik, who has lived all over India.

Some cops showed up around 11:40 banging sticks and shooing most non-foreigners out of the bar (giving the police need something to do while waiting for bribes), and I met a man named Aziz who offered me advice on keeping my husband.
Eventually all cars and travelers showed up, and we started 5 hours of bumpy, rainy driving/half-sleeping. I'm very glad our driver was good.

It's Noon Somewhere in the World
Around 6:30 AM (after several stops for directions), we ended up at Chikmagalur Golf Club. I passed up both playing in the six-some as well as the vodka I was offered (For the record, I didn't start drinking until after breakfast). The countryside was pretty and you could hear all sorts of bird calls. Some of us found an empty couches to nap on for an hour or so while waiting for the golfers.

We lounged on the clubhouse veranda until 11 or 12 (drinking coffee, having some shots, listening to music that probably irritated the golfers on the first tee box), two jeeps showed up and we took a bouncy ride up into the mountains to the plantation. Beautiful ride, sunny weather, great lunch upon arrival, and then the rain started. We were more or less housebound (I read and napped, some played a drinking game). When the rain stopped, a couple of us went tromping around the creek, looking at coffee shrubs and frogs. Let's go with some pictures, courtesy of Liz:

The jeep waiting at the clubhouse

Scenic ride up the hills:

I feel totally like a legit traveler...
...because I bear tiny, proud scabs from leeches. The leeches were very small and easy to pull off, though I couldn't figure out how they kept grabbing my shoes and socks (I wasn't in any water). Here's one of Liz's leeches:





By evening everything cleared up, we had a nice barbecue (mmmm--coal-roasted tiny bananas stuffed with chocolate and coconut!) and more drinking. I listened to stories of ex-pat debauchery (thanks--I'll stick to just drunkenness) and was exhausted by 11 PM.

Coffee & Vishnu

Sunday was definitely the best day. Those of us left behind from the first jeep load got the tour (and more leeches) from Joseph, whose family owns the plantation. It's about 150 acres with a creek running through it. Seeing how small scale agriculture works was interesting. The mountains are all green and misty, and it's so, so nice to be away from honking Bangalore.




Of course, we had a delicious breakfast with lots of chai before another jouncy, scenic ride.







We ended up taking 9 hours to get back to Bangalore for a number of reasons, but the best one was a very cool Vishnu temple in Belur that all sorts of extraordinarily detailed carving inside and out. We had a good guide who was easy to understand, and the tourist scene is pretty mellow (we were the only foreigners I noticed there).



All in all, a long, near-sleepless but fun weekend.

I Am Officially Stupid

I seem to have lost my wallet. It likely fell out of my pocket. I went through the step-retracing, the department store has my phone number, etc. I even got a soundtrack--"Stupid Girl" started playing in the store. Kindly refrain from the obvious posts about me and wallets.

However, for $30, my credit union is sending me a new debit card. I'd like to take back anything bad I have ever said about my credit union, as they have come through like champs on the international front, whereas Wells Fargo was so incompetent I closed my business account, and Chase Visa just seems confused.

I still have my passport. I can also get $40 in traveler's checks back. I had to cancel three cards, and I'll probably have to re-do my bill pay on a few accounts. I lost about 2000 Rs in cash, but I have my home stash to tide me through the weekend (losing all the small bills is rough, though). The real loss would have been my DL picture where I am wearing a tiara, but they digitize pictures now, so I'll still have it when I get home.

D-E-C-A-D-E-N-C-E

RUI
Our normal Tuesday night meeting with Seattle was canceled, so instead we saw the Black Eyed Peas. The band was to go on at 8, so we started out evening about 5:30 by meeting up with a friend, and then more friends, and then off across the traffic of Bangalore to get to the show. Total transit time was 2-3 hours, and that's without having to worry about parking.

Instead of our usual auto rickshaw ride inhaling dust and diesel with horns and bad mufflers everywhere, we passed the time in quiet, air conditioned comfort watching "Weeds" on DVD, drinking skunked Kingfisher, and lounging in air conditioning while Mr. Srinivas, the driver, handled traffic. Being drunk and watching TV in a small car is definitely weird and the best way to manage evening traffic in Bangalore.


Let's Get It Started
We lost our friends initially because I had to make a mad rush to the ladies' toilet, having had too much Kingfisher and too little of a bladder. [Note: concert port-a-potties are the same in India as the US, if not a little cleaner]. The concert was pretty good, though it was so packed up front that Liz and I chose to move out of the crowd to be able to dance more. Eventually, we were able to find them and enough space to dance. We could have gotten closer, but Fergie's outfits scared me too much.

After the concert, we partied at Pebble, met some more ex-pats, and generally made merry. It's kind of crappy that last call in Bangalore 11:30, but it mainly forces everything to start earlier. You get to party like it's the weekend but get in bed on time to be rested for work the next day. Genius!

"I have chickens in my ceiling."

The Saga Continues
Friday, 7 AM - Wake up from nap hearing the clickety sounds of pigeons on ceiling tiles.
8 AM - Call maintenance. I think I woke someone up. He hangs up on me.
10 AM - Call again. Attempt to make bird noises to express problem. Man on phone agrees to send someone.
11:10 AM - Call again. In the third cycle of the ring-back tone, an AirTel recording tells me nobody's home.
12:00 PM - Call again. Answer! I try English slowly and emphatically to someone who doesn't understand me. "OK, OK, m'am. "
12:35 Give up and go drop off laundry and get lunch.
2:48 - If at first you don't succeed...
2:49 - "The AirTel you have called is--busy. Please try your call later."
3:31 - Dialing...Answer! I use the phrase "like chicken. in ceiling." when asked what the problem is "OK, Madame. I will come." I say "bring ladder."
3:38 - The sweet sound of the doorbell!

The maintenance man shows up with a set of Allen wrenches and a screwdriver. I show him the problem. He laughs a little and tells me the word for pigeon is "belu" [Auntie Chai--do I have the correct word?]. I explain (in a sad, sad, I-am-American-and-could-not-find-Pimsleur-Kannada-CD's way) that the window is never open, the pigeons may be gone, but I heard them this morning, and maintenance guy #2 already caught them and put them out.

Maintenance guy #3 removes a couple of tiles--one of which has a ring of crap (literally) that was likely a nest at some point--and sees GREAT BIG GAPS around the pipe that Liz no doubt saw and I missed earlier this week, as did the other maintenance man. In fact, I think the other maintenance guy saw it and didn't want to deal with it.

He plugged the hole with some extra plastic bags we had here. No ladder. No mortar. He even refused my duct tape. He just climbed into the ceiling, bracing one foot on the bathroom window sill and another on a towel rack. I handed him the bags while he balanced. When he was done, he climbed down, scraped the shit off the ceiling tiles, swept up, and left.

Oh--and I Have a Job, Too

I'll take a break from "Wacky India" posts and write about the job, since work is why I came to India (though having found the sizes and quality I want at the department store next to the compound, I am starting to enjoy shopping).

About MFI's
Wikipedia has some good, short summaries on microfinance, microcredit, and the organizations involved. One of the things I like about the work is that many of the NGO's in microfinance work collaboratively, though the MFI market itself is getting very competitive in India. I have met with people from other organizations (Unitus, ACCION) who were both helpful and honest about the strengths and limitations with Mifos and microfinance.

Branches
Last week, Liz and I went out to an urban branch and took notes on data entry using Mifos. I find this type of activity interesting and humanizing because you get to see the pain points the product causes.

An MFI branch differs from what you may think of as a bank branch (no Muzak, thankfully). The branches can be in Bangalore near slums or 100 km outside the city. GK currently has 44 branches serving 120,000 active clients and will grow rapidly in the coming year.

A branch has one PC for data entry and a few tables at which loan officers process cash reconciliation. Branches do not have air conditioning, and the power supply is on a backup generator because power are frequent. The internet connection may go as high as 512 KBPS (you are probably reading this on at least 700), but generally it's going to be much lower, and outages necessitate the use of dial-up connections. Some branches consistently operate at ~56 KBPS.


Loan officers interact with their clients at center meetings. The meetings take place somewhere (indoors or outdoors) close to where clients live. LO's typically travel by motorcycles to get to all locations.

At GK, LO's go out into the field in the morning to hold center meetings and collect payments. They have 20 clients per center and meet with six or seven centers every day, Monday through Saturday. After the meetings are complete, the LO's work at the branch reconciling cash and accounts. When that portion is complete, one loan officer starts data entry into Mifos. Later in the day, clients may come in to receive an special disbursement.


[I'll add pictures when I get them from Liz, who is a much better photographer with a substantially better camera.]

After all disbursements and paper work are complete, data entry finishes. In the evenings--the times when the poor are not working--the LO's will work on recruiting and training clients.


Yes, but what do YOU do?
Part of my job here is to work with GK to help answer questions and get accurate information on how Mifos gets used and what improvements we can make (or what improvements we can punt to the next release). Also, I post updates to Mifos.org, test defects, and create other documentation. I am likely to have a hand in some other deployments in India, as well as help execute a workshop for MFI's and Mifos specialists in January.

The other role I play is to vet potential Mifos Specialists and development teams located in Bangalore. Mifos Specialists are the people who help MFI's implement Mifos (Mifos is free and open source). Liz (whose focuses on business development) finds potential firms, and we interview them jointly (for now). Though we've met some good development prospects, we have not yet found a good implementation firm that is appropriate for both initial deployments as well as longer-term possibilities. However, we're getting better at screening as well as making better connections.

Even though I change jobs frequently (eight companies since college, not counting a few one-off contracts), it is tough being 12.5 hours away from the rest of your team (though they make efforts to be available for us, especially AW, who is checking and responding to email while on her Aegean vacation). I end up googling a lot, faking a little, and getting good ideas for the next things to document.

It's easy to work a lot of hours because 1) Theres a lot to get done, and 2) I still have to figure out a lot of things, 3) Seattle is online when I get home from Kingfishing so I work into the wee hours, and 4) My insomnia is back. Also, I never feel like I get enough tasks completed, since I only have through February to contribute.

But, Bangalore has a lot of places to eat and drink, so I go out a few nights a week. I work out at least every other day, and when I start feeling burned out, I go check out something in the city or work on my post-India travel plans.

Questions?

I Can Tell I Have Adjusted...

...because I can't sleep.

NASA publishes lots of studies on jet lag. They think it takes about two days per timezone moved to adjust to the changes. India is 12.5 hours off PST, and I started having trouble sleeping a couple weeks ago, taking me back to my normals rounds of insomnia.

It's a Small World

The start-ups--I am drawn to them. This one is pretty damned cool (and relevant to my current work, even!).

Tonight I had Mediterranean/Italian dinner with Sean of babajob and babalife. Sean was e-ntroduced to me by the fabulous Gio. As it turns out, Sean's Microsoft crowd overlaps with mine (weirdly, the evening started with "Oh--do you know Peter Ford?" with whom I've only had sushi and generally have no other reason to know other than he's a likable guy); he had a former Casa del Fuego resident as a TA; and he may even have met my current roommate.

Strangely, he doesn't know Nelson, and you know he'd remember the Prettiest Man in Seattle.

Bert Hath Cursed Me! **

My roommate has birds in her ceiling [NOT A EUPHEMISM].

After trying to get maintenance a few times--including our landlady trying, though she never used the word "khachara" only "pigeon-eh." I think adding an extra vowel sound is how you Kannadize an English word--I have the right person here.

I know he is the right person because he CAUGHT TWO PIGEONS WITH HIS BARE HANDS and shoved them out the bathroom window. This method seems far more effective than my planned technique of poking at them with a broom until they magically vanished.

The problem may *appear* to be solved. However:

1) We know the pigeons didn't get in through the window because she doesn't open it and we know they go in and out,

2) I can hear baby birds cheep-cheeping every morning, and I did not see him take out a nest.

The maintenance man assured me "no children" and that the birds got in through the window. This fact concerns me even more, since it implies that I hallucinate baby bird noises and pigeons are able to open windows.

I'm pretty certain this post will end up being a series.

[contnued in "I have chickens in my ceiling."]




**This incident and the squirrel in my attic in Seattle were all brought upon myself for making fun of Bert's raccoon invasion two years ago. Bert, I promise to buy you and Kim a really nice wedding gift if you have the curse lifted.

Oktoberfest! (brought to you by The Good Times)

We saw Oktoberfest advertised on a billboard and went to check it out Saturday night (though Sunday is a bigger drinking night, it wasn't a good night for us). The 'fest was fairly far north and took us a while to get there (compounded by traffic and stops at two gas stations. We don't know why the first gas station was rejected, but our auto driver was NOT happy with the attendant).

Oktoberfest itself was similar to music/outdoor festivals at home, but it was on a smaller scale. You had to buy tickets to get beer, they had hippie jewelry and t-shirts for sale, and we ate fried food. The only thing missing: no funnel cake, elephant ears, or local fried sweets. The beer variety was amazing: you could have Kingfisher draught, Kingfisher in 350 mL cans, or Kingfisher in 500 mL tallboy cans-- and if you had enough people--you could get the Kingfisher mini-keg for 750 Rs.



The battle of the bands was at times good, though the band had clear favorites (i.e. the James Brown was atrocious, but the Oasis cover was much tighter:



Miss D, I'm pretty sure your skills are in high demand here). Liz and I walked around, drank Kingfisher, introduced ourselves to a few white people--including a nice young man from Stuttgart--and saw a lot of really drunk, really stoned, and really enthused Indian men dance around. Some were nice and were friendly-chatting; some were kinda creepy. It was your standard music fest experience, except that a man I would officially call an old dude wanted to buy me a drink.

Here we are enjoying The Good Times (except that I don't like Kingfisher):



We danced some, too. I found that a nice elbow-rave was enough to keep people at a distance. Our fun had to end early for practical reasons. Drunk, usually-repressed young men start getting unruly when the party ends, and we wanted to make sure we got an auto before people got grabby or shove-y.



Getting an auto at 11:45 was annoying and we had some hilarity ensue, but we made it home for under 200 Rs.

Where I Work

Sometimes I work at home:



And sometimes I work at GK in the IT building:

Wait--It's not like that at all

I reviewed my entries, and it seems I paint a more negative picture of Bangalore than I intended. I try to focus on things that differ from the US, and a lot of times it's some saga about how something I don't even think about at home takes four extra people and six repetitions (Internet, DHL delivery, auto drivers).
India has plenty of interesting things that are non-logistical.

The Garden City
Bangalore has loads of parks. So, even though the streets are crammed with traffic, a small (or huge, in the case of Cubbon Park and Lal Bagh Gardens) meticulously maintained park will be within a few blocks. Also, the landscaping here is all giant versions of US houseplants, huge, beautiful old trees, and lots of flowering trees. The jasmine smells nice at night.

Family Friendly
Evening are nice around the condo because the families come out. The kids get home from school around 3-4 PM. From that point on, the complex sounds like a playground (because it is one). Neighbors come out to chat, retirees walk the path around the compound--it's all very neighborhoodsy. Monday night I worked out near the main courtyard (turns out the Club House *doesn't* open at 6) and got to watch people while I jumped rope. Several little kids came over to watch the nutty foreign lady doing push-ups and lunges, but they got a bit shy when I said hello.
My workout got relocated when the groundskeeper came out and sprayed big clouds of pesticides everywhere. No mosquitoes in my lungs--guaranteed. Later in the evening, people gather in the clubhouse to play ping-pong, badminton (known here as shuttlecock), snooker, and other games.


Please--Do Not Trouble Yourself
People here are gracious and welcoming. They will invite you into their homes, answer questions on the street, and if you ask them about a topic, odds are the person will offer to get or do whatever you need. I hesitate to ask people for things because I don't want to trouble them, and--selfishly--I know that it's usually going to be an ordeal in terms of coordination and communication. The only phrase I can find that works is "Please--do not trouble yourself," which works sometimes.

We met one of our neighbors from our floor in the elevator. She immediately invited us in, told us about her job, invited us to dinner at their place (she has three roommates), and gave us advice on autos. We haven't met the other roommates, but all four girls work for the same big consulting firm I worked at out of college.

For Indians coming to the United States--especially Seattle--we must seem terribly cold, paranoid, and impatient. I admit that I prefer my culture because I can do more things alone than with others, but it's nice to see people be friendly. I am better at helping than being helped (and I mean that in a practical way, not in the I'm-so-great-and-have-such-a-big-heart way), but I'll probably never come close to Indian hospitality.

KR City Market

I realized that the fancy department store is probably not nearly as interesting for to read about as the City Market.

The City Market is several blocks' worth of shops and stalls. I didn't see any foreigners there, except for one on the outskirts as I was walking out. Lack of foreigners is nice because it means fewer beggars and scams (though in tourist areas, I have the advantage of offers to have my name written on a grain of rice).

It was good to wander around, but I'm a pretty big marketing target since virtually all foreigners are rich (yes, backpackers, you are rich here, too). I didn't actually buy anything--the household goods were not of the same quality I buy (thin "stainless" steel, etc); the clothes were too small; and for jewelry and saris, I need to shop with a local. Any sari I ask about is "10,000 Rupees, madam." I certainly don't mind paying a bit of a foreigner tax, but it can get pretty ridiculous.

Pictures say a thousand words (and I have to get back to work):

At Home, I'd Probably Get Arrested

After a good morning at GK on Saturday, I spent the afternoon wandering around one of the nicer neighborhoods between GK and where I live. I shopped a bit (bought a pillow and some clothespins: 150 Rs), and then I snapped pictures of cars, signs, houses, gas stations--whatever. If I had been an obvious (i.e. different skin) foreigner in the US walking around taking pictures of a neighborhood, I think I'd end up making acquaintances at Homeland Security.

Shop 'til You Drop
I didn't really drop, though your feet get a little tired. The streets and sidewalks are uneven (at best), and often I pick my way through puddles, dirt, mud, and poop (lots of cattle and dogs wander around). It sounds worse than it really is. You get used to it, and you take your shoes off before you go into a lot of places. I also use the bathroom sprayer to wash my feet when I get home.

I try to figure out what is "Expensive" and what is reasonable. My conclusion: if it's good quality and I want it enough: buy it. I don't have good points of reference (though if there's haggling involved, I try to spy on locals). I can't really use "what does a loaf a bread go for?" because food prices vary wildly. I spent 15 Rs on a thali for lunch, but going out with some ex-pats the same night night cost me 2500 Rs because I drank and snacked at fancy hotel bars where a lot of ex-pats (and their corporate accounts) cluster. So, I try to compare prices, cross my fingers, and hope I'm not paying too much of a foreigner price. [Side note: TP costs A DOLLAR A ROLL.]


What's Kannada for "Where's the Big and Tall Section?"
On Sunday, I went to the City Market, a big, fancy department store, and had a series of annoying auto-driver experiences exacerbated by low blood sugar and diesel fumes. Other than the last bit, the city market was interesting and fun to wander around in. I saw a dog so ugly, I didn't have the heart to photograph it.

Shopping at the department store was a little like shopping in high school, where I was bigger than most girls and couldn't find clothes that fit right. I tried on t-shirts, pants, and blouses--all of which were too small, but the next size up was Huge. I looked at bras, but they had nothing larger than a 32, which would never make it around my rib cage, let alone anything else. Underwear seemed like a possibility, but I have plenty here. Jeans are almost as expensive as they are at home, and the quality isn't as good. So, I'll just have to call my friend's tailor and get something custom-made. Oh. Darn.

The departments stores are multi-story, air-conditioned, pop music-filled, and generally about the same as a US department store. The difference is that one or two clerks hover and suggest things for me. And the they watch closely while I pick up shirts. And maybe suggest the same shirt. Or another shirt completely unlike anything I had picked up. Or the same shirt that I had been looking at and hadn't picked up because it was clearly too small and I would have split the arms. And then the second clerk will do the same. And maybe a third.

Even though the hovering makes sense (when labor is cheap, you can hire a lot of staff, and that staff is eager to please so as to not lose the job), it's still off-putting (you can probably read 3000 blog entries across the interwebs about this very phenomenon).

Fried Starch-Stuffed Starch? Genius!

I finally (after failed attempts to eat at smaller, less fancy places)lunched at an Indian Chinese restaurant in a hotel near MG Road (possibly my last trip there. Too many damned tourists). I had some sort of fried potato in sweet chili sauce. The potatoes were mashed with garlic and spices, wrapped in something that may have been another sheet of potato and then fried. I could do a whole blog entry on Indian Chinese food, but the key points are: a) TASTY, b) waaaaaaaay better than American Chinese food, 3)distinct from Chinese-Chinese food, and 4) TASTY!

Five points if you guess who this ad reminds me of!

(Hint: She's in jury duty right now!)

Don't Worry, Neill--The Cat Will Protect You

These bats are likely fruit bats, and they're actually probably larger than Neill's Die Fledermaus-ing Mia. Liz took a photo of these in the park near the Bull Temple.

The bull is really big, carved out of a single white boulder, and oiled monthly with peanut oil to keep it black. It's also looks kinda wall-eyed and freaked-out. Liz and I were bemused at the underwhelmingness of this "Must-See" Bangalore landmark recommended by the travel guides. But, we had a nice stroll and a good dosa lunch in the Basavanagudi neighborhood.

WTF--Where's my Gmail?

The ISP we use--AirTel--seems to randomly block sites. They are allowed again after a while. Right now, I can't check gmail. Earlier, I couldn't reach Cute Overload. Liz and I had trouble one morning reaching the websites of software development firms, which is rough since finding them is part of our jobs.

Dear Aliya: Bring Me WD-40
On the bright side, my cough is clearing up, and I have been able to exercise the past two days. The workout room has several pieces of equipment, all of which make a LOT of squeaks and creaks when used. Also, I'm afraid my powerful physique--in that I weight more than 90 pounds--may destroy some of the machines (Liz actually pushed a treadmill instrument panel through its frame by pressing START). Last night I didn't think to bring an iPod (I have no problem working out without music). BIG MISTAKE. I tried five pieces of equipment before finding an exercycle that didn't make me cringe. Also, none of the 22 recognized languages of India have a word for "ergonomics."

Tonight's Lesson: The treadmill power sources shut off after 20 minutes and have to rest for 10.

I don't like using exercise equipment much anyway, and after 10 years of training, I know enough exhausting drills to keep myself out of breath. Plus, I am certain all my pants will keep fitting me because the laundry service doesn't use dryers and they scrub and wring the hell out of clothing.

Infrequently Asked Questions

To answer the Senator from Licton Springs:

Liz got to be my roommate because she's here around the same time I am, though she leaves India after I do. Also, she got here a week earlier and found the place.

The oddest thing I have smelled so far? That's tough. India never really smells odd, so much as intense. Today I smelled lemongrass. I can smell coffee roasting from my living room. Lots of men wear cologne here. The elevators are sometimes stincky, and I frequently smell weird, but I can't think of anything odd. Generally speaking, India has more good smells than bad. I could do without the diesel and urine (the latter is less present here than in downtown Seattle), but the jasmine smells lovely at night, and you get lots of wafts of breads cooking. Liz input: garbage piles, and I have to agree. They can be quite stinky.

Strangest thing I have seen was the SECOND Mystery Spot bumper sticker! The white guy on a motorcycle I saw today was pretty strange, though (and, no, not just fair. he was of Western descent). Honorable mention: the socket in my shower where the bathroom fan plugs in.

What food am I loving? ALMOST ALL OF IT AS FREQUENTLY AS POSSIBLE. I really like getting chats at stand-up places. Again--pictures forthcoming. I--like almost everyone--like panipuri. Brittens are tasty. I like getting South Indian food. I like North Indian Food. Indian Chinese is excellent. Hot chips. Breads. Tiny bananas. I'm a little tired of sambar, but other than that, BRING IT ON!

Jiggle It All You Like--It Won't help

On the evening errand walk, we saw a health club. Everything looked 24-Hour Fitness, until we noticed a guy attempting to shake off the flab with one of those fat belt machines. He had it strapped across his butt. The machine *did* appear to be getting quite a workout.

Uh--any questions?

So, at this point, I don't know how much I have to share. Unlike a tourist, I don't do exciting things every few days. I have two types of days:

Work at GK Day (2-3 days a week)
- wake up somewhere between 7 and 8
- open drapes, windows, and balcony doors to air out house
- Get up and make breakfast (If I don't eat enough, I end up throwing up the malaria pill)
- do dishes
- get dressed, check email, post a blog
- leave to get to GK between 8:15 and 8:45
- take 40-60 minute auto ride to GK
- find a spot at GK, work for a few hours, have a meeting, maybe have lunch, more work.
- leave GK between 4-5 PM
- 30-40 minutes auto ride home
- maybe walk neighborhood to pick up groceries, get snack, etc
- 6:30-8:30 prepare & consume dinner/leftovers with Liz, work on email, and watch TV
- Seattle starts waking up and sending email.
- 8:30-11 or 12 AM phone meetings with Seattle, emails, work.
- somewhere between 10 and 1, shower, floss, brush, and read a bit. Sleep.

Work from Home
- same as above, but I stay home all day, stopping to have lunch, make tea, and snack.

Once every few weeks (like yesterday) I may go into the city in the afternoon to meet with potential Mifos Specialists (companies who want to work for MFI's to deploy Mifos for them) or Mifos Developers (companies GTC would contract to build parts of Mifos). After the meetings, I might run errands or wander around MG Road (making sure to leave in time to beat some of the traffic). Once I get well, I'll probably throw in a workout in the morning.

All in all, it's a lot like my life in Seattle, except I eat breakfast here.

So, if you have any specific questions, it would be good to have them.