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!)