18 may-last day at work

Today was my last official day in the Arghyam office. Time passes so quickly! Almost no one was in office today from the Grants Team. Amrtha is studying for exams, others are traveling or just home for the day so there wasn't much of a 'goodbye' feel in the air. I finished up my report, but haven't done the timeline yet. It details the various government schemes on a national level relevant to rural water and sanitation. The second half of the report focuses on schemes implemented at the state level in Gujarat for similar purposes.

I am actually amazed at how much I have learned. When I go home and tell people about this internship, it'll be a neat one-liner "a group focused on clean rural drinking water and sanitation" but there is so much that is involved in everything in this world. By the end of this experience I was understanding the presentations I sat in on at a much deeper level. I knew what questions I should be asking and I knew where to look for the information I needed. I love that type of learning- the quiet kind that sneaks up on you when you're having fun! crazy!

It was very sad to be on the bike for the very last time. We took a different route home and Srikanta gave me a card. I will miss the bike rides a lot! How can driving be exciting after this? 

17 may-tiny corners of happiness

It was back to the bike today, to my relief! We took a slightly different route home, just to mix things up, and got a glimpse of different tangential plotlines running their course in Bangalore. I always want to just stop and be a fly on the wall of one of the alleys we wheel through. Although the neighborhoods are poorer, they're just more beautiful. The light is softer and the noise is nonexistent. The colours are muted and inviting, and everything feels like family.

The late nights are doing me in (another thing that's coming full circle is my aching need to sleep!) and I could not bring myself to go to the last poetry reading! I was in such a funk. So, I stayed home and worked on my report and Jo took Gayan to Urban Solace.

When Jo returned, we had our second long, honest, soul baring talk of the trip, where we talked about our purposes while travelling, and discussed the difficulties and the memories thus far. It was a great talk that wrapped up with some quality episodes from our good friend Dr. House. Lots of little joys today!

16 may- coming full circle

We're now approaching our week of lasts in Bangalore, and it has been strange how things have come full circle...

I took an auto home from work today and for some reason that was when it hit me that I'm leaving soon! Going from 360 stimulus on a bike to the narrowed world view from an auto is like being a horse with blinders put on. I felt more removed from everything and I didn't like it.

Other things that have come full circle: we've started craving American food again, and the TV is broken so as at the beginning of the trip, we are once more without the tube. Nani's in the market though!

My phone is rapidly running out of currency, so it could be that I end the trip once more without a mobile...

15 may-last sunday in bangalore

Nani, Joanna and I headed to Malleswaram to do some jewelry shopping. It's yet another neighborhood I'm entering for the first time. There is still so much of Bangalore we haven't had a chance to explore in 2 months and it makes me think maybe people like Dominique have a point. It'll take lifetimes to explore just one city in one country, so why go sojourning all over the grand old world? Still, I'm not turned off travel yet.

Nani wanted to buy jewellery for my mother and various other relatives, the objective of our outing. She told me she sought "one gram gold jewellery" and visions of ornate and expensive pieces swam before my eyes. I was very skeptical that this was a good idea.

We stepped out of the auto and Nani ducked into a store selling religious items to ask for directions. We were headed for Kushal's, a store we apparently frequent on our visits to Bengaluru, but which I don't remember. It was blazing hot, but the streets were full of determined shoppers. Stopping first at a jewellery store below ground (down a flight of steps), I realized my mistake. It turns out in India, one gram gold jewellery is used to refer to a particular type of high quality gold-plated jewellery- fake and affordable!

In a shop very much like a department store, we browsed the jewellery counter. Much of the selection looked cheap or tacky. I've never been one for matching my jewellery to the exact shade of my clothing, so I wasn't keen on finding the right blue earrings to match my blue outfit for the wedding.

We fended off overly helpful salespeople and Joanna found a nice watch that looked fantastic, especially given its great price. After leaving the store, we almost immediately found Kushal's, located conveniently right across from a watch repair store! So Joanna got her watch resized immediately, and then the three of us spent a happy hour browsing all of the adornment displays. We walked out with a treasure trove of earrings and necklaces for friends, family and ourselves.

Before heading home, Nani wanted to pick up a few vegetables. The vegetable market area was a narrow street packed with buyers and sellers. One woman was doing her shopping as a sort of 'drive-thru' on her scooter, just buzzing from stall to stall and loading up her bike with veggies before speeding off. Joanna and I decided we would do the same, if we had bikes of our own.

There was a man selling cheap drums, and he began to pester Joanna and I. I actually did want a little drum, so I haggled him down from 400 to 100 and bought one, as did Joanna. He wouldn't stop following us though, urging us to buy another one for more money, and he became quite aggressive so I actually walked away to stand elsewhere while Nani finished shopping.

We headed home with our goods, and then Joanna set off again. At the orphanage where she has been working, a theatre troupe is staging a play featuring all of the children. She headed over to their apartment to help them make costumes for the show. I stayed home, drank chai and hung out with Nani for a while.

When I went outside to grab an auto, I turned left and walked up to the cluster of three parked on the corner to find Peer Khan and Azathmullah reclining inside an auto, chatting with a third driver I didn't recognize. Azathmullah asked me why I hadn't been driving with him to work, and I was afraid he'd be upset but he was very gracious about it! Peer Khan told the third driver to take me, and he ended up being a very nice man who helped me find the apartment complex with great patience.

I had to cross the heavily trafficked street to get to the complex, and even after almost two months it is a trying, heart-wrenching ordeal. Relieved that I made it, I sat and waited on the front steps until Joanna came and got me. The actual apartment was back through a few dark twisty streets and I certainly would not have found it on my own!

Inside the apartment, I immediately settled down with Joanna against a wall to help sew gauzy strips onto fairy wings. While seated, I met some of the members of this group, although forgive me, I cannot remember many of their names! There was an Indian woman named Shubra, who said a quick hello and then dashed out of the apartment.

The troupe is staging Peter Pan, and apparently two of the boys slated to play main characters were going to have to miss the show for school. Shubra wanted to inform the children that the roles would be recast in person, so she left for the orphanage immediately. That's an impressive commitment!

Apparently the apartment belongs to Shubra's parents, and they've let the troupe stay there for the duration of their project. I can't tell how many people are staying there, but there are odd mattresses in random spots on the floor. One wall has pictures of all of the kids from the orphanage and their names.

I met Karl, the American in the troupe who Jo went to dinner with the other night. He's jovial and talkative and was very friendly. Actually, I really enjoyed sewing the strips onto the wings. It was busy work but just the sort my hands wanted, and I like sewing! I chatted with Gaz for a while, the Englishman responsible for costumes, about theatre and our respective families. It was really nice to meet people with a new, fresh and unique perspective on Bangalore and India.

They're having such a different trip than we are! Here for a purpose, they haven't travelled or seen much, but they've had a zillion tiny adventures scouting for costume props and negotiating with locals just in the neighborhood where they are staying. It reminds me that every second is an experience in India, and that even without attending a cultural event, the air is always alive and everything is memorable.

We spent the entire evening leisurely working, talking, and eating delicious pizza. The toppings (Domino's!) are so different than in the US and the veggie pizza tasted just decidedly Indian. I loved it.

Jo and I watched a short film one of the troupe members was making about their trip in India, at the moment just a hodgepodge of footage set to music but somehow still compelling. We lost track of time entirely and at 10:30, panicked and headed out to find an auto!

Standing on the street corner by a swelling flood of traffic, I was nervous about finding an auto willing to take us back late for a decent fare. There was a sketchy man who went to stand near Jo when I crossed the street to try the other side, but luckily she found an auto just then and we made it safely home! An adventurous last Sunday night...

14 may-ghagra and movies

I woke up so late today! Joanna decided not to go shopping for wedding clothes yet, so Nani and I headed off to Jayanagar 4th block. I knew I wanted a ghagra choli (it's a North Indian outfit with a long skirt and short top) for the wedding, so we went straight to that section of the store. The man behind the counter (as usual) whipped out several different options, piling them on top of each other in a dizzying display of colour and sequins. Ghagra salespeople have this interesting way of letting you 'try on' an outfit without actually putting it on.

If you just try it on, you end up horribly disappointed and confused, because they are sold sort of 'one size fits all' and it is expected that you will tailor it to your own body. So instead, they pull out a black elastic band and enlist a few different helpers. One stands behind you and holds the top to our torso, the elastic band holds the skirt to your waist and another helper arranges the dupatta/sash picturesquely across your frame, all in front of a flattering full length mirror.

I wasn't loving any of the Jayanagar ghagras, which were much too showy for my taste. So we headed off again, this time to MG road. The moment we arrived it began to pour and we retreated under an awning. Looking over the entire street, I saw similar scenes. People just packed under awnings and in storefronts, waiting helplessly for the rain to stop. No one was braving it, and no one had umbrellas except for a few lucky foreigners strolling pleasantly from store to store.

Finally, Nani and I decided to make a 'run' for it and we dashed across the street. We slunk into the first dress store we found, and headed to the ghagra section. This time, a woman whipped out a picture book of wedding ghagras and urged me to choose some. North Indian brides wear ghagras, and I suppose she thought I wanted one for my wedding. Which I did not.

I ended up buying a blue and russet ghagra, which we left in the store to be tailored. To head home, we had to try a few different autos. The first few wanted to charge us double the fare because it was raining, but as Nani correctly informed the driver, we could not actually help the fact that it was raining. So we ended up finding a man who charged by the meter and headed home.

Joanna and I spent the rest of this lazy Saturday talking and reading and watching movies.

13 may-great food and fast bikes

Today was the last day Amrtha will be in the office while I'm here! We went out to eat in honour of the occasion. She introduced me to a restaurant on a rooftop (my favourite places in Bangalore have all been on rooftops- like Mocha and High Note) in Indiranagar called Herbs & Spice. Again, it was awesome decor and awesome food.

We split a pasta dish, and just chatted. We decided to do dessert elsewhere, especially because Herbs & Spice seemed to be out of all of their desserts! So we walked back to work. Later in the day, we went to Ben & Jerry's for ice cream! The serving sizes were perfect, a nice change from the super-sized US.

Amrtha explained to me the significance of the giraffe coaching signs that have been mystifying me everywhere! Have I mentioned these? Joanna and I keep stumbling upon these signs on people's driveway gates that say things like "NO PARKING: Giraffe Coaching, Call Us!". Well apparently it is not, as I had hoped, a coaching service for giraffes. It is just a regular coaching service, like tutors for academic subjects. No, but more interesting was the explanation of these signs to begin with. Apparently companies figured out it was the best way to advertise, to put these signs on people's driveway gates. Because the gates are private property, the city couldn't remove them. By including the 'no parking', the companies create an incentive for the homeowners to leave the signs up. And then (at least to me) it looks like the homeowners are personally endorsing the services of said company. Win win win win win.

I had an interview for a program on Skype at 6:30 India time, and planned to stay at work late to conduct the interview from the office. This plan made sense because Srikanta was going to leave early, or so I thought. Anyways, it turns out I no longer had enough money for an auto (having spent it all on ice cream) and Srikanta had not left early, so I opted to ride home with him once more.

I was not at all sure we would make it to Jayanagar in time for me to do the interview from home, but Srikanta took the mission to heart and raced me home. This was the first bike ride since the beginning where I really felt compelled to HOLD ON.

We whizzed through large puddles from yesterday's rain, had a number of close calls, and sped, wove, jumped all over the place until miraculously, there I was in front of the flat with 20 minutes to spare. So I sat in the back room and reveled in the rare use of skype, eating jalebi and dhokla and chatting wtih people all the way across the ocean at Dartmouth, who had no idea how adventurous my ride home had been.

rain and dhokla

I've been racing through A Bend in the River, the V.S. Naipaul book that Amrtha lent me! I want to return it before my last day in office. It's an amazing depiction of Africa post-independence, narrated by an Indian-Muslim shopkeeper in a village in the interior.

While at office, it rained heavily! I debated taking an auto home, but wanted to try a motorbike in the rain and felt bad leaving Srikanta to go it alone. So, we braved the rain and it was so much fun! I got soaking wet, but I love how the city changes in the rain. No one carries umbrellas here, but there are a lot of cloths and bags and newspapers held over heads. I used my green dupatta to cover my head/hair because the rain does sting somewhat when on a bike.

The roads were a little difficult- there was some flooding on our route home and through certain unavoidable puddles, I had to actually bring my knees up to avoid getting soaked to my thighs. At home, I changed from my rain-soaked garb and Jo and I stuffed our faces with the delicious dhokla Nani had bought! I worked on my final report for a few hours, and then we watched more of the OC.

marriage advertisements

Our plan for Wednesday was to see a play at Rangashankara! Unfortunately, I was so exhausted at work from our late nights and was not feeling well at all. So Jo went with Shruthi and friends and I passed out on the couch about an hour after I got home, sleeping straight through the night.

Before passing out though, Nani was reading me marriage advertisements from a Tamil magazine! They are quite the trip. 35 yr old MBA fair skinned Tamil Brahmin seeking girl, fair, MBA, good cook, Tamil Brahmin.


There are so many pages of these blurbs, all usually mentioning skin colour, caste and education level. I've heard impassioned defenses of arranged marriages while here, but it is so hard, after my Western upbringing, to believe that people find love through them.

a bevy of strange characters at the cafe for the soul

Srikanta brought me home on the bike as usual, and when I walked in the apartment, Nani was waiting! She was full of smiles and tales about Chennai and the temple opening. Although it was apparently unbearably hot down in Tamil Nadu (which I can only imagine was made worse by the silk saris and ban against showing skin), she had a great time seeing her family and participating in the religious event.

The couple responsible for the construction of the new temple (somewhere outside Chennai) had chosen a site very close to their own home. Their son was to be a priest in the temple, and apparently his wife had given up her career to dedicate her life to the family's religious cause. (Something of that sort...)

Apparently this family chose not to send their children to higher education but instead taught them from home, and the kids were proficient in many subjects, including computer science. Nani was very impressed, but I was left with the total conviction that I could not be that sort of obedient daughter-in-law.

After the chat with Nani, I took an auto to go meet Jo at our weekly Urban Solace poetry night. My driver was a pretty taciturn fellow and I for the first time found myself praying he wasn't taking me somewhere other than where I wanted to go. But after circling Ulsoor Lake (who knew, it's actually a lake!) I ended up safe and sound at Urban Solace, just in time to see Jo get out of a car!

Tonight's poetry reading was the oddest so far. Really, just strange characters. With all other tables occupied, we ended up sitting right by the door and consequentially drowned all poetry in the sound of traffic behind us. The featured poet of the night was a man from Chennai, who had traveled to Bangalore to attend the only weekly poetry reading in the country. The crowd was a little sparse, and has been since the Americans from the global school left. I think the featured poet was disappointed, but his poetry was a little lacking as well. He introduced each poem, careful to explain its significance, and often prefaced a piece saying "this one is a short poem". And it would certainly be short. Two or three lines at most, something like "The paper boats float down the river". Sentences from a 1st grade primer.

Next was an elderly man whose rhythm sounded more like conventional slam poetry, but unfortunately we could barely hear him over the traffic. I did catch one poem about a boy and a girl who used to walk down an alley on their way home and see an old man each day, who always looked at them very disapprovingly. The old man one day asked the boy what he thought he was doing with that girl. The boy looked offended and said "she's my sister" and she looked at him in horror and said "don't say such things, he's my dad". And it was cleverly written. The final poet of the night was a woman who had read before, and we couldn't hear a word she said. Overall, an underwhelming night.

After the show, the second poet came up to us and asked if we liked his poetry. He urged us multiple times to come back on a Friday to hear the live music at Urban Solace, and did not seem to understand when we told him we would be leaving India in a few days. Then, the proprietor came up to us and asked me if I would be the feature poet for the following week. I declined, and couldn't understand why he thought I would read poetry (and not Jo, for instance, who has quite the poetry background!).

In the auto on the way home, we discussed poetry and then at home, watched the OC! We're working our way through all of the disks Jo brought with her and I hope we don't run out! I don't like when we have to switch between shows, I get attached!

mosquito anti-sting stick

"They have two models, the mouse and the cobra (which you can see above in the pictures). You press the button wait until the green light goes on (heating up to 50 Celsius) then press the metallic field onto the sting and wait until the light goes off again.
The 50 Celsius are hot enough to dissolve the poison and it will reduce the itch feeling right away and it helps the healing process. That temperature might be uncomfortable while you apply it but won’t burn or harm you and it’s a small price to pay compared to the itch feeling.
I can also see that this is very helpful to people who are very sensitive to mosquito stings and besides that it also helps with wasp, hornets and horse-flies bites."

I want this! How did I not know someone had invented such a wondrous product?! It cures mosquito bites. [via]

9 may-close calls

This morning, Srikanta came a little later and I was grateful for the chance to sleep in! We had a late night yesterday, watching 500 Days of Summer on Joanna's laptop. Apparently on the ride to work we passed an accident, but I somehow didn't see it!

At work, I ordered breakfast and had mini idlis (the little rice cakes) in sambar (I'm going to stop explaining Indian food, it's not that interesting...). Anyways, it was delicious. I also ordered lunch... yum.

After lunch, Ayan gave a talk on Reverse Osmosis and how the process works. It was informative, but a little hard to follow. I wasn't the most focused today! Ayan used to live in the Netherlands, and I recently translated some of his Dutch documents for him and felt so useful! It's amazing how that language finds its way into my life in so many ways.

I worked on my report for the rest of the day, and left work earlier than expected with Srikanta. The ride back was full of close calls today, a cow darting out, a car not honking from around a corner. With a less careful driver, I would have been petrified, but Srikanta is very safe. He lent me a book called "Small is Beautiful", an explanation of economics for the ordinary man. I'm not sure what it will be like yet, but the reading is really piling up so I have to start making dents in these great books before I have to return them all!

There are so many mosquitos biting me this evening! And the power went out again. Those minor frustrations are propelling me out the door to go eat dinner with Jo at a restaurant called Grand Taj. She went there once before with a climber friend and promises it's a good one.

Update: we just got back from Grand Taj! It's literally right around the corner and we stuffed our faces. I had raita, aloo paratha and gobi manchurian AND a roti! I am so full. The waiters were completely strange...when one of them took any order from us, he leaned down really close to the table and my face, and looked at the table while I talked literally in his ear.

Then, a man came up behind me and spoke in my ear, making me jump with fright. He was asking if we wanted cold drinks after our meal. No thank you, just the bill. Talk about too close for comfort. Interestingly, there are different standards for personal space in different countries- apparently Americans are big on it, Brazilians not so much, the waiters at Grand Taj, not at all.

8 may- the best dosa

On Sunday, Joanna and I woke up at a gloriously late hour. We scrounged for breakfast (Jo had cereal with fruit, I found tasty leftovers) and plotted the day. Joanna had found some museums in the area, so we headed out.

Looking out from the auto in one spot of particularly congested traffic, we noticed the two men on the motorbike next to us had a baby goat sandwiched between them! This goat was bleating incessantly, so loudly, and it sounded like a baby child. It was actually quite unpleasant sounding, and half funny half sad! The poor kid (literally.) must have been miserable in traffic, but it was so sweet cradled in the arms of the man on the bike! What a sight.

Our first stop was the Government Museum, housing artifacts from archeological excavations around India.

http://www.cvltvre.com/mod/cvltvre_events/thumbnail.php?id=43841

It was an interesting museum, with very uninformative plaques that said things like "swords" without offering any date of discovery or information about use or civilization. I guess we're used to learning more when we look around a museum, because it confused Jo and I. It is funny how it is so much less interesting to look at a pot when you have no idea if it's from a week ago or 5000 years!

But the museum was fun. There were several artifacts from Mohenjodaro, the ancient Indus-Valley city that existed roughly around 2600 to 1900 BCE. We saw pottery, armour, a variety of evil-looking weaponry and a collection of musical instruments that included a shriveled bagpipe.

A pathway from the very red and green Government Museum building led us to Venkatappa Art Gallery.

I actually loved this gallery, although it too could have done with more information. There was a lot of art from the Mughal civilizations, and much from even earlier. Most of the pieces had as their inspiration Hindu mythology, and they called back memories of my childhood stories. I loved the embossed sculpture of Drona teaching the Pandavas archery, remembering the story about focusing on the arrow and drowning out worldly distractions. Next to this was a painting of Shakuntala, my favourite story from childhood. She married King Dushyanta, and then suffered a curse from a rishi she didn't greet properly, causing her to lose her wedding ring and have her husband forget her. A fish swallows the ring, and a fisherman finds it in the fish's belly. Bringing the ring to the king causes the king to remember his wife, and he sets off in search of her. In the forest, he meets his own son who is playing with tigers and lions, and he is impressed by the child's bravery. When he discovers it is his son, he brings him to Shakuntala for a lovely reunion.

I couldn't tell you why I loved that story so much, but I still do...

After several more statues and paintings, we wandered away in search of the Technology Musuem. Behind the Art Gallery was a vast park, where many, many people were wandering in Sunday enjoyment. It would be a great place to have a picnic! We walked up a flight of stairs to check out the High Court of Karnataka behind a gate, then back down and out of the park. At KR Circle, we asked for directions and were pointed in the direction of the Technology Museum. While the Government Museum / Arty Gallery ticket was 4 Rs per adult, the Technology Museum's fare was 20, but it was much more of a museum.

The amount of engineering knowledge to be absorbed in that building was so cool. Displays explained everything from the purpose and evolution of screws, levers and inclined planes to how complex hydropower systems worked. Higher floors tackled biotechnology, space exploration (with a wall dedicated to commemorating Kalpana Chawla) and more. It seemed like the majority of people visiting did not want to, or could not, absorb the depth of information provided. Many were children, who dashed from display to display pushing buttons to watch things move. Most families just hustled along, interested in the interactive but not in the written lectures.

It's a great family place but so, so crowded although perhaps that was because it was Sunday. Anyways, for my purposes, to read the information, it was not a great time to go. Outside, we hailed an auto to go home.

One auto driver summoned Jo to his auto, so we sat inside. He turned around and gave us a business card advertising his art exhibition. He would take us there and then home for a flat fare of 50 rupees, a great deal, he promised, because he had some stake in the art exhibition. I kept telling him we didn't want to go at that moment, and he kept insisting until finally I realized he wasn't taking us home unless we agreed to go to the exhibition first.

So we got out and found another auto. But what a great business venture! I'm sure he gets a lot of willing clients and I wish him the best, that is some perseverence.

We searched online for another place to eat and found stellar reviews for Ganesh Darshan Dosa Camp, promising the best masala dosa and coffee in Bangalore. It is located in 3rd block Jayanagar, so Jo and I walked. It's a crowded place set up kind of like Adigas, with high tables to eat standing up and windows at the back to present receipts to the cooks.

The dosa menu is somewhat innovative, with tomato dosas, Banaras dosas (with bread crumbs in the batter) and even banana dosa. I opted for the masala dosa and a coffee, interested to see how great they were. Jo got the banana dosa and ordered a rice dish, but was mistakenly given a sweet...

I stood in line for the dosas, as at least 15 people shoved their receipts simultaneously at the cooks. On a long flat stove surface behind the counter, the cook poured out some 25 dosas, preparing all of them with speed and skill.

The filter coffee, which I drank while waiting for the dosa, was absolutely fantastic! I recommend it highly to anyone who wants coffee in Bangalore. The masala dosa was thick and filling and also amazing. I liked the scene very much!

On the walk home, I nearly bought some smile  posters or a fishbowl from two very sweet kids selling on the roadside, but then an obnoxious man came up and started badgering me to buy things and I was put off. Further on, I bought a mehendi cone for fun.

At home, I had Jo experiment on me with the mehendi. It was a lot of fun and for the next two weeks I'm boasting a very attractive touch-me-not fern tattoo on my right arm (a Joanna Schneider original).

7 may- filter coffee and home massages

 In order to finish my massive report on time, I wanted to work on Saturday. On Friday, when I asked Geetha if the office would be open, she told me an employee would need to be present. Rather than Amrtha or someone else having to babysit me so that I had internet access all day long, Amrtha suggested I come to her house to work.

In the morning I said goodbye to Nani, who is off to Chennai for the temple opening. She planned to spend Saturday night at her sister Vasantha's house so they could travel together on Sunday. I hailed an auto outside the flat, and the driver, named Rafio, turned out to be another one in a long line of totally wonderful auto drivers.

He offered to bring me to work every day if I needed, telling me he lived in the complex right behind mine (the same one Azathmullah lives in). I told him I traveled with a friend, and he assured me if I ever needed a ride, he would oblige. As we got nearer to Amrtha's, we stepped off of main roads and I was less sure of where we were going but Rafio took the time to help orient us.

There is a row of similarly painted (green) apartment buildings, and I walked into three wrong complexes before finally finding Amrtha's building. It is set up as long hallways of apartments, as opposed to the square-with-a-hole-in-the-middle set up of our Jayanagar flat. The hallways are broken up by small courtyards where light filters down through a high-up screen. Floors are patterned tile, and the whole atmosphere is cool and quiet. In fact, on the street, you can barely hear traffic noises. It is a lovely, residential feel that I miss, as the Jayanagar apartment boasts a troop of rickshaws out front and a busy street.

Amrtha came out to meet me, and then we settled in her front room, me happily set up on internet and her plugging away at her law books, studying for exams. Her husband left for work, and we worked quietly for a while but eventually productivity devolved into conversation. Amrtha made chai and offered me these amazing little chocolate cake pieces...I can't remember the name but they were perfect for dipping. She also made pongal ( a rice dish ) for lunch, and I was totally amazed. It's always astounding to me that all of a sudden when Indian women set up their own home they miraculously know how to cook just as well as their mothers. Where does it come from? Is that going to happen to me? So I asked her, and she explained that her aunt is very good at giving directions with actual measurements (one cup rice, one cup dahl) as opposed to 'take your smallest child's handful, twice'.


After lunch, work was pretty much hopeless. We were both in that sort of sleepy food coma, and decided another cup of chai would help. Amrtha made herself filter coffee- I've never seen anyone make coffee the Indian way, with a four part percolator!

https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi52V6Byn9-sBu558c5M0vU5YQYzM5yQIsk4vf0YoVt0QPHdZtfS1pVcou4x-Pg25jOQokKoxHIjCnZbsI9HCq-831O3l3iPKxIVv4xfxp0d2uwhRhizyOPVYsES5tV3yQQ8ncHppaa460/s320/Disassembled_South_Indian_coffee_filter2.jpg

So first, you remove the lid and umbrella (the umbrella is the funny looking thing in front), put in the coffee powder (about 2 tbsp per person) and press it down with a spoon. The two containers are set on top of each other, and the top one contains the powder. You put the umbrella back and pour the water (brought to a boil) over the umbrella, and it percolates down into the bottom container, carrying the flavour of the grounds with it. It's basically like a much more manual french press.

Amrtha told me you're not supposed to reheat the actual coffee, but just heat the milk you pour into it. It's actually fantastic coffee. I want one of these filters.

We sat at the table and talked endlessly about families and internships, India, cats and so much more. After an amazing day, I took my leave and Amrtha walked me up to the main street to hail an auto. It is very weird to me that so many auto drivers with empty autos will refuse passengers...but it's their right!


Without Nani home, Joanna and I have to get creative around dinner time. We decided to head to Jayanagar 4th block to see if we spotted an interesting restaurant. Our auto dropped us off on a random street, and the scene was totally alive! So many people and families were out, it was wonderful to see this side of Bangalore in the evening. We walked for a bit and decided to try Pizza Corner, a restaurant on the second floor of some building.

We caught up on each other's lives over (in my case, Garden Veggie) pizza that was delicious! When he brought the bill, one of the waiters handed me a business card offering his 'Jedy Butti Oil Body Massage Service'. He assured me that home and room service was available. Decidedly sketchy, but I kept the card for laughs.

As we were leaving, he explained to me once more that he was willing to come deliver his massage service in my home. Too much!

Joanna had the wonderful idea of getting ice cream, and although I thought I was full, you're never really too full for ice cream...we went to a little ice cream and juice shop and ordered Swedish Chocolate (parcel), which was three scoops of chocolate ice cream with chocolate sauce poured over the top. We ordered it to go because Jo wanted to put bananas on hers!

Finding an auto back was no trouble, and we were very satisfied with our 4th block outing!

6 may-great conversation

At work today, Amrtha, Niteen, Deepak and I had a long and healthy debate about what 'Americans' were like. We were discussing mainly Indians who grow up in America and their tendency to obsess about holding on to their roots. Deepak works for the India Water Portal Team and Niteen, on Grants, used to live walking distance from my house when he worked in Houston (although we obviously didn't know it at the time).

Another topic related to 'roots' that has been coming up lately is this idea of Indian marriage and its dependable tenacity. Amrtha told me once that she believes it can do a family more harm when a husband and wife remain in an unhappy situation than when they are honest and actively seek their happiness through, perhaps, separation. It is a challenging concept and one that does not meet wide acceptance here. There seem to be a lot of passionless marriages that endure 'for the sake of the children'. But how much can it benefit a child to grow up in a household where the adults don't prioritize their own happiness?

I was reflecting today on my choice of workplace and remembered a conversation I had with my papa before making my selection. We decided I should choose the place where it seemed like I would have the best conversations with people and I totally feel like I made the right choice! I love working in a place where everyone is so young and alive and eager to poke fun of each other. 


The longer this trip goes on the less ready I am to go back. I wasn't expecting to feel like that...

So Nelson came in to office today with a copy of the Bangalore Times of India...there's a picture of Joanna and I on page three! It was taken at Urban Solace Tuesdays with the Bard although interestingly, the little blurb mentioned nothing about location nor the name of the event. It described the great conversation and lively atmosphere but no details were provided...a mystery gathering in Bangalore!

On the ride home from work, Srikanta and I drove past my flat so he could show me some local Bangalore curiousities...the first of which was the Mohammedan Block. This is how local Jayanagar residents refer to the predominantly Muslim neighborhood in front of my flat. I think I even described it in one of my earlier posts when I walked to Ashirwad Grocery with Kumar Mama. It's full of windy little streets, mutton shops, Arabic scrolling print above shops, and lots of men dressed in white with matching white taqiyahs. A taqiyah is a short, rounded cap worn to emulate Mohammed (whose companions were apparently never seen with their heads uncovered).

Srikanta had told me that there was a wall in this block graffiti'd with rather extremist slogans of the anti-American variety, and when we drove past it I tried to make out what they said. Someone had been persistently scrubbing at the writing so it was all quite blurred and I couldn't make out what exactly the message was.

Our next stop was to the Indian Institute of World Culture, a library in the Jayanagar area where Srikanta says he 'grew up'. We had spoken about this place on the bike ride because while on the subject of poetry, he mentioned that this Institute's bulletin featured a poem by Tagore on its cover. It is a public library, but also functions as a center for cultural programs, art displays and a varied array of public talks on subjects ranging from society to politics to religion. Apparently one of the buildings was inaugurated by Rohini Nilekani! It is certainly a small city. Or, more accurately, Rohini is a prominent individual.

I am slowly discovering so much in Bangalore, I want more time to explore it all! As another example, on one of the tiny streets Srikanta dips his bike through as we ride back to Jayanagar is an art gallery featuring rural artwork by local artists. I want so badly to check it out but we haven't taken the same route since and I can't for the life of me remember where it was!

5 may-reverse osmosis

Today was a busy day at the office! I rode with Azathmullah for the last time, and paid him 150 Rs. He actually seemed very disappointed that I wouldn't be riding with him in the future. By now he is very friendly with the office guard and they have nice familiar little Kannada chats while I gather my money. But, the freedom of the bike does call...

Rahul, head of the Grants Team, gave one of his lectures today. He's astonishingly knowledgeable and these lectures are a weekly event. When I first joined, I was told the talks were in a series that began with the Big Bang and would end with a full analysis of groundwater. This fluid trajectory is not obvious to me, as I jumped into the middle of the series, but the talks are still great.

The current focus is geology, and we've covered erosion, the types of rocks, weathering processes and plate tectonics. There is lots of input and questions from everyone. The entire Grants Team attends, as well as a few other interested people from other areas in the office. Rahul springs from physics to geography to sociology, and it certainly keeps the brain limber! The talks are good fun, everyone is cheery, and there is a sense that the work is gaining a bigger perspective and a relevant context.

The talk lasted until lunchtime, and the Grants Team all sat together at the little round table in our room. Today, conversation was all about books. Total heaven. We had lists going of book recommendations for everyone, and heated discussions about authors and particular novels. Literally two hours later, we went back to work, only to be interrupted for another meeting.

This one was exclusively for the Grants Team, with two representatives from an organization called Naandi Water, installing reverse osmosis plants in Indian villages to clean the drinking water. The very first day I started my internship, I had that three hour talk with Amrtha about everything to do with the water sector (I don't think I ever blogged about it, having promised not to bore you at the time. Now I've sufficiently bored you with every other mundane detail of my life so I might as well not skip the work-related ones). Anyways, she told me then that our organization doesn't give grants for reverse osmosis plants because although they're effective at stripping water of any and all contamination, they are not a sustainable structure or one that a community can manage to maintain without professional help. 

So, I was wondering why we were meeting with these representatives. But it is always useful to learn about something different and I am certainly very glad we had that meeting. Amrtha and I walked into the conference room first, where the two Naandi representatives were waiting.

Shwetha, one of the representatives, was a very pretty Rajasthani girl with an American accent. With her was Gayatri, an elder woman with short gray hair, dressed well and with a clipped accent that suggested she was proud of her education...so the rest of the Grants Team filed in and the presentation began.

I feel like I've learned so much already, and it was so satisfying to understand this talk, to have the familiarity with terms and to know what questions I wanted to ask. I always have a hard time listening to ideas without picking at them, and I was picking furiously at this talk in my notebook. It's just that it is so easy to find cracks in things, especially because nothing will ever be perfect, so it's only a matter of time before you find out what is wrong with it. How dark is that?!!

Anyways. I was calling back all of this Anthro 55 stuff I remembered from that class I took in the spring, everything about social suffering, structural violence and stigma, semantic illness networks and idioms of distress. Like when Gayatri was talking about how you could never be certain if the health problems you saw in rural villages were a result of unclean drinking water or of old age or entirely unrelated conditions. How did people talk about their conditions, I wondered? Was there a stigma associated behind certain terms? She related an anecdote about  a village that was convinced their water had arsenic in it, and so did not take kindly to people telling them otherwise. Semantic illness networks at work.

It is probably all the anthropology I've heard that made me respond so negatively to her talk. How was she so unconcerned with the effect the imposition of an entirely new technology would have on lives and social dynamics? What would happen to women, if the act of water collection became gendered (if the plant was far away, only people with scooters or bikes might go collect, what if this was only men?). If Naandi ran the plant for 5 years, what would happen after they left? Where did the waste from the plant go? How did they choose the people who ran it?

Everyone raised great questions, and it did not seem to me like the representatives were giving the questions adequate attention. Probably because it is unnerving to have your ideas challenged from 8 different directions when they're so new that even you haven't explored them fully. But then, that's a natural part of bringing them to the table. So at one point, someone asked Gayatri a question and she nodded rhythmically while browsing her computer to bring an unrelated picture of the plant up on the projector.

Wow, that totally bothered me. I just hate it when people look at their computer or phone while you're talking to them! And considering she was the one coming to present her idea, you would think she'd be a little more engaged. But anyways. I quietly conveyed my frustrations to Amrtha, and went on taking notes.

Done with the presentation, Gayatri began playing Free Cell, not realizing her computer was still projecting to the big screen! What a faux pas. But she was elderly and did not seem to have tremendous familiarity with the idea of projection. That's about all the slacks I can cut her.

So I was all riled up after this presentation, really, just fuming with my own sense of self-righteousness, and went to Amrtha with a zillion questions as usual and because I was relying on her to show me the other side of things. I think I did this with her once before, but I don't remember when. But there was one time when I made an off-hand statement that I didn't think too deeply about, and she challenged me, forcing me to examine my beliefs and how I conveyed them.

Downstairs on the couches, a similar scenario played out this time. I began listing everything that the woman had wrong, all pleased with myself for having noticed. And Amrtha explained things suddenly in a very different light. We talked about how easy it was to be cynical, but how at least these women are trying to do something good for people. We talked about the dangers of rapid judgment and about getting stuck in a narrow perspective. Amrtha pointed out that to these women, the slow and steady community approach might seem sluggish and ineffective. It's all about perspective.

I have to think more about this talk, because we said a lot and I'm still distilling meaning, but I'm putting down the basics here for now. We also talked about loving work- whether you do what you love or love what you do. Amrtha was saying you might not love everything you have to do, but you do it sometimes anyways, things like sweeping or paying bills. A point to be made is that if you decide you will only do things you love, a lot of important tasks get left by the wayside. Amrtha's point was also that the things you do best are the things that you love doing, so you should seek to do what you love ( I think ).

I don't know that I agree though, and I think this is that point where I share my perspective and everyone tells me I'm naive and 19. But I guess that doesn't make it any less of a perspective. So anyways, I think I genuinely love what I do (as opposed to just doing what I love). It takes effort sometimes, but I really do enjoy every little process I go through in life. I love driving through polluted traffic because I like the life you get to watch. I love sweeping because I like the process of making a floor clean. It reminds me of a passage I read in a book many years ago, about how the process of writing begins not when your words start forming on paper but the moment you pick up the pen. There is that joy to be gained from processes.

I've been thinking about this a lot after reading Zen and the Art and The Prophet in quick succession. Zen & MM talks about doing everything with love and respect, the littlest task, such as changing motorbike oil, with a sense of its importance. I'm hopelessly in love with that idea. I think that if you slow down enough in life, and take the time to do things with care, everything becomes a joyful process because after all, it's joyful enough to be alive. It is only rushing through things in order to finish them quickly that brings me stress.


I raised this question on the bike ride home with Srikanta, and his view was similar to Amrtha's. Anyways, I think that what people will say to my romantic love of doing anything and everything, is that I love it because I shoulder no great burden of responsibility yet. But I hope I never lose this. I like how happy I am.

We talked about travel on the ride home as well, and Srikanta, like Dominique, has never been outside India nor has any desire to venture outside. If he could travel anywhere, he says he would travel on a boat just to the ocean and open waters. I guess that makes sense with my view, because you should enjoy the process of traveling without needing a destination. But I'm so hungry for new places that it always surprises me when people aren't.

I want to travel a lot more in life. Ooops power just died. Anyways, that about wraps it up for the day, and my computer is about to die! Lastly, I cancelled my trip to Chennai for my relative's temple opening...I won't be able to finish my final report for work if I go.

I can't decide if I'm disappointed or not. It would have been nice to go, but it's not that important, and Chennai will be very hot. Also, I love my work...

4 may-motorbike philosophy

Hope you're enjoying the beautiful candid snapshot gracing the top of the page! It may be temporary, I haven't decided yet, but Jo's face was too priceless not to share with the world.

This morning, Azathmullah told me he would need more money from now on if he was to continue to be my regular auto driver. It's not that he is asking for a lot more, but the principle of the thing really troubles me, as I'm already paying him more than the meter. So I came up with an alternative, and am hoping tomorrow I can explain to him in a smooth way that I won't be driving with him anymore...

Today at work, the team was discussing whether reorganizing the workspace could bolster collaboration and productivity. You know those spatial experiments, the ones where college laundry rooms are placed on the first floor to increase conversation or where all office chairs come with wheels so colleagues can whizz over to collaborate with more people by exerting less effort? The proposition was to move the Grants Team desks (currently in two rows facing opposite walls) so that they filled the center of the room and faced one another.

Karthik, who brings chai and runs very useful errands around the office, came upstairs to help with the grunt work. The men moved two of these large desks back to back, observed the complete loss of central space, and then sat for a while discussing. No one wanted to look at the wall, but the new arrangement meant a more claustrophobic room. It was decided that with the old arrangement, chairs could swivel around into this open space, making group meetings and collaboration actually easier. If it ain't broke, don't fix it.

Srikanta gave me a ride home from work on the back of his motorbike. It was a bit of a balancing act with my lunchbag and messenger bag, but totally worth it. He explained that he takes small side streets instead of main roads because they are faster, quieter and allow you to peek into corners of Bangalore life that you are not otherwise exposed to. He was so right.

I am still finding it difficult to describe exactly why I felt so much beauty on that ride, or what exactly that beauty was. I'll try. We were riding through alleys where traffic sounds were just nonexistent and little boys laughed and we dodged cricket wickets. Homes were in those faded bright colours of green and pink and blue, and there was a man outside ironing clothes and a woman outside pumping water from a tap. It was just obscenely gorgeous, all of it so serene and alive.

We did have to zoom back on to the main road to actually get anywhere though, but then the great conversation began. He told me, for instance, that Koramangala used to be a slum! This is Rohini Nilekani's neighborhood with the lush gardens and luxurious everything. Apparently the city just dedicated itself to the development of that run-down area and did fantastic things with it, to where it is now one of the richest neighborhoods in Bangalore. I couldn't help wondering what exactly they did with the slum people who lived there though. That part is sadder.

We talked about Tagore and Plato, about Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance (a very appropriate bike conversation), Indian construction and so much more. Srikanta was very blown away by the idea that I was studying exactly what I was interested in. This is, as you might have gathered by now, a novel concept still in India.

I suggested that the Indian obsession with doctor/engineer jobs might be a necessity, every parent wanting the best way for their child to access the glory of the world. I said that before people reached for political and social freedoms, it made sense that they sought economic security. Srikanta held an impassioned  and elegant defense against this point. He said first, that it all depended on what you thought  the best life was. And he talked about the balance necessary in society, and how harmony is wrought from different disciplines, and about dharma and artha and kama and moksha, the four purushartas (aims of human life) according to Hinduism. Dharma is righteousness, artha is wealth, kama desire and moksha salvation or liberation. Srikanta was saying that to focus only on artha, or economic gain, always desiring wealth for your children as the appropriate form of their advancement, you forgot to equally weigh the other three aims.

His defense spun a web between Sanskrit thought and Buddhism and economics and the nature of happiness. These quiet alleys of Bangalore evening were the perfect backdrop to the tapestry of thoughts. The ride took an hour and was definitely the most enjoyable part of my day and I am happy to have his friendship. Actually, this is soon to be a regular part of my day, as I've decided to stop traveling by auto.

Thus my Indian progression, from the air-conditioned taxi cab to the randomly chosen auto drivers and different routes daily, to the regular friendly auto driver, to riding pillion on my new friend's motorbike...

Am I becoming more adventurous? More Indian? Or just cheaper...

3 may-the other americans

 UPDATE: I have posted all relevant pictures on relevant posts and am finally totally caught up! Check it out further back :)

Joanna and I decided to check out the "Tuesdays with the Bard" scene at Urban Solace again, having enjoyed it so much last week. I took an auto home and then another one to Urban Solace, where I met Joanna, who came on the back of Xavier's motorbike (Xavier being the Goan climber she's befriended here, who is very nice).

The featured poet was Ryan Brooks, a girl around our age from Chicago! I was expecting a lean American man, and instead Ryan stepped up to the stool and mike, complete with afro and perched hat, double Monroe piercings and sick kicks. She had a great voice and we had fun listening, my favourite poem of hers being one called "My Poverty is Better Than Yours".

Next was an elderly man, one who had read last week from his book. This week he read again from his book, and again, and again. I can't say I'm the biggest fan of his poetry style and it was just a total inundation of his work...I was relieved when he handed over the mike to the attractive Indian man at the table behind us!

I forgot his name, but he read his poems in almost a murmur off of his phone. Not really the best style. Then there was the girl who had opened the show last week, and I wasn't totally appreciative of her either. Another girl around our age (also American) read poems about her time working with women in Rajasthan, but sharply criticized some cultural nuances in a way probably not suited for her present audience.

Overall, the poetry was less satisfying. After everyone was done though, I headed over to a table in the corner where three of the foreign girls were sitting- there were around 5 or 6 present, and introduced myself. We got to talking, and it was so nice to meet these 'other Americans' breathing Bangalore air at the same time as us.

They were all students of a Global College, an initiative they described to me. It is based, I believe, out of Long Island University and takes students through a whirlwind and very literally global education, where they spend each of their four years in a different country. Last year for this bunch was Costa Rica, and now after India, they are all headed off to different places including China, Croatia and the US.

They had traveled a lot in India, places like Varanasi and Kerala, Goa, Mysore and Rajasthan, and were staying in apartments in Bangalore that their university had put them up in. They described their teachers as fantastic and told me the school had connections that provided them with guest speakers doing really exceptional things. These girls were so interesting! They talked about farming initiatives they had seen in Kerala, and about starting their own water research in Bangalore. They told me about a Valentine's Day protest they had attended in Bangalore against the police who had arrested couples holding hands, and about a concert they wanted to see of a local music group.

We talked about Dartmouth, and what it was like going to a more 'old boys school'. Their program didn't attract a lot of males- one, in fact, in the entire year of 100 students. Of these 100, only 13 are in Bangalore now, and most of these 13 are leaving within the next week or so. We exchanged contact information and will hopefully be in touch.

After a while, Jo came over to remind me of time and we went outside to catch an auto, which was accomplished immediately and with zero difficulty. We sped off home, utterly satisfied with another night at the cafe for the soul.

2 may- wrapping up

 Note: I have many, many photos from the Konkan/Goa trip but am having some problems uploading them to the blog, so they'll hopefully be coming soon! Also, I just posted about 12 catch-up posts and am now back on track.

Everyone was back in the office (with the exception of the intern from Delhi, who left permanently) and it was nice to be back at work. I spent today working on understanding the water and sanitation schemes for the state of Gujarat, and then sat down with my boss to plan the rest of my internship. We set up a schedule for the completion of my final report, a beast to complete but a satisfying way to capture everything I've learned. It is due in two weeks! I'll be working a lot over the next few days (with the exception of today, which I shamelessly dedicated to catching up on this blog...).

At the end of the day, I headed to the juice shop for a nice walk and while there it started pouring buckets of rain. I took a very very bumpy auto home, and it was so strange because I absolutely hated that ride! I can't figure out what was different but I got a mean feel from the driver (though he was perfectly pleasant to me) and it seemed like every bump was so violent. I was actually mildly stressed out when I got home!

I wasn't feeling well, and literally fell asleep an hour after arriving, and this sleep lasted until the next morning. Unbelievable. But now I feel better!

1 may - cannot believe it is may

Time is literally flying by here in Bangalore!

Sunday, we woke up at 5:30 AM. We had plans to meet Smitha, the girl from Urban Solace, to go running in Lalbagh. We walked there, leaving the apartment at 6:00 and met her at the Ashoka Pillar gate. Jo had plans to go running with a guy she knew from the gym (they were supposed to go on a 10K run Sunday morning but it was canceled because of rain) but he was quite late, so we set off with Smitha. While we were stretching, Jo headed back and luckily found him.

We all set out jogging around the lake and it was very fun but I haven't run in a long time and have shoes that are far too small for me! So, I checked out after a mere 1.5 KM and while Jo and the guy from the gym (I think his name was Arab) raced along, Smith and I found a banyan tree to stretch under.

Her stretches were very different than the ones I am used to, and it was quite an adventure. There was a lot of leaping around. She talked about Dominic, and how he had biked from Bangalore to Delhi on a whim, followed by a camera crew and sleeping in any odd place. Oh, the joys being a male.

Lalbagh is a nice scene in the early morning! There were a lot of people around, but none were running. Many men walking slowly and swinging their arms in circles while playing Carnatic music on their phones very loudly for all to enjoy. The lake is beautiful though, and I hope we can go again. Apparently there is no entrance fee for joggers to Lalbagh, which I thought seemed strange because couldn't anyone just wear jogging apparel? I guess people don't though.

After running, Smitha dropped me home on her scooter, and Jo came back soon after. We wanted to go get the internet sticks refilled and to go to Blossom Book House, a great bookstore I had heard about from people at work. When we got to the Reliance store, it turned out to be shut on Sundays. I bought On the Road, Jack Kerouac and The Inheritance of Loss, Kiran Desai from a roadside bookseller and then we hopped in another auto to go to Blossom. The driver didn't know where it was, so I told him to take us to my office, figuring the bookstore was nearby. It wasn't.

We wandered around near my office for a while, and near the juice shop, picked up another auto who dropped us on Church Street. It is a very 'hip' area behind MG road and the street seemed to be full of foreigners and cool leafy cafes. Blossom is very crowded and very disorganized, three stories of total literary wonder. I was blown away, and totally in love. Firstly, it is a dream to just wander through aimlessly. Secondly, I talked to salespeople asking for particular books and every single one knew exactly where everything was. I cannot figure out how. But even without knowing the author, I mentioned a few different books with which they were all familiar and they instantly told me where they were or if they were out of stock. Fantastic.

I ended up buying myself another copy of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance because I've had this tremendous urge to read it again after having given a copy to Shwetha, and I bought The Prophet, a collection of poems by Khalil Gibran. I've wanted to read that since stumbling upon this amazing Gibran quote "your work is your love made visible" which reminds me, in this great circular way, of Zen and the Art. So many books now, and so little time! But by now, I'm done with Zen and the Art.

It was beginning to look very much like rain, so we ducked into one of the aforementioned leafy cafes and sat against a bench. We ordered a chocolate milkshake which tasted like rich chocolate milk, and I had potato cheese bites while Jo indulged in a chicken burger. We read peacefully in the drizzle while we finished our meal, and then headed out to walk towards an auto. I like the area a lot, it seemed young and alive, and eventually we found an auto and headed home, satisfied with our lazy Sunday (not so lazy given the way it started, though!).

30 april-errands and another play

Jo headed off to go climbing this morning, and I enjoyed the rare opportunity to sleep in til 9:30! When I awoke, Nani and I headed to the tailor in Gandhi Bazaar. She had extra sari fabrics and proposed we make them into tops for Jo and I. I'm not sure how they'll look, but it will be fun to find out! At home, I blogged for a while (catching up on the Goa trip) and was still thus occupied when Jo returned. This is also the day the internet died. We ran out of gigabytes on our internet sticks AGAIN! I suppose it's all the Weeds we've been watching, but it's very frustrating regardless.

Shruthi's parents took Nani and I to a jeweler they know, to find me a nosering sparkly enough to satisfy my family. The selection was beautiful, and I chose a small (but slightly bigger than my current one) stud. We paid an advance up front and promised to return for it in 15 days. The making of a thin enough stem to fit in my tiny hole will take time, and apparently the jewelers are very busy because of a festival this week (a new moon festival).

On the way back, we passed a Levi's store offering free shades (sunglasses) with a purchase over 7000 Rs. It's funny how when the purchases are that Western, the prices are pretty comparable with US prices, and not cheaper as one might imagine.

Jo and I got out the chessboard she bought in Savantwadi and I taught her how to play. It was so fun, I haven't played in ages! We had messaged a bunch of people to come to the play at Rangashankara with us in the evening, and eventually Smitha and Ravindra (from Urban Solace) and Srikanta (a colleague of mine from work) agreed to come.

We got in an auto a little later than we should have (I didn't budget properly for time, being caught up in chess!) and were soon stuck in horrendous traffic. The auto driver knew us from having seen us with Peer Khan. I am becoming increasingly aware of the network of auto drivers and their friendships. Peer Khan is a popular figure! Anyways, Ravindra bought our tickets, and all were frantically and futilely texting us to hurry. When we arrived, we dashed out of the auto and up the stairs and made it in literally seconds before the play began.

It was called Necessary Targets, with a cast of 7 women, one foreign (with a pretty good French accent, although I don't think she was French?). I thought it was beautifully put on. It was about two women going to a refugee camp in an unidentified area to provide counseling services to the women there, and the struggles they face.

They push to get the women's 'stories' and there are a number of very important themes raised like the sensationalization of gore and what true care means, and whether it helps to talk about trauma, even the idea of community and nationalism. There was one point that stayed with me particularly clearly. A woman in the refugee camp talks about how what scares her most is that the violent ones were such normal people, and it scares her because it means that the tendency and propensity for such cruelty flows through everyone's veins, in the blood of all people. A few days later, a friend of mine from work pointed me to a TED talk given by Philip Zimbardo about how ordinary people become monsters.

http://www.ted.com/talks/philip_zimbardo_on_the_psychology_of_evil.html

Very interesting.

After the play, Srikanta helped us find an auto back and we found one for 1.5 times the metered fare (which was fine because it amounted to a mere 50 rupees). By the way, I cried during the play. It was fantastic.

29 april-outing

Friday, we decided to meet up with Aaditya, another Dartmouth 13 in Bangalore for the term. He came by the apartment around 730 on his scooter and followed our auto to a place very near Rangashankara, a sort of bar/restaurant in a fancy looking hotel where the other big event of the night was some little girl's birthday party (advertised with a large self-standing poster in the lobby!).

The decor was very modern, with slow low lights and white pod-like chairs all sort of turned towards a screen projecting the cricket match and some very large speakers blaring in our ears. We chatted about Dartmouth and Bangalore. Aaditya is working for a small and innovative advertising firm that helps make national advertising local and affordable for clients. He's doing the programming, and says it's a lot of work but interesting.

Sometimes it is nice to just hear another person talk about Bangalore, it strangely legitimizes our experiences, makes them seem more real and less odd, I guess. But for Aaditya it's very different because he has grown up here.

After our chatting, I started calling cabs. I've amassed quite a list of cab companies whose drivers are familiar with either me or my family and it has been very useful! Tonight, however, it wasn't. They were all busy, unavailable or unwilling to come to JP Nagar. Out of options, we took a brief three person ride on Aaditya's scooter up to the main road, where we stood on the curb and tried to find an auto to take us home. He finally found one that would take us for a heightened rate, and we consented.

28 april- a thursday

Today, Nani was feeling better! I wasn't planning on going to work in the morning, but she was up and cooking so I headed off. Work was quiet again, everyone is either ill or gone on field visits. At home, there was again nothing much to report. I read The World is Flat for most of the evening, (Thomas Friedman).

I'm not sure what I make of it. Everyone I mention it to takes issue with his unflinching promotion of globalization, pointing to the loss of culture and language and social graces and morality. But he makes some very good points and the book adds a new dimension to my India experience.

I really like reading in context, I've discovered. Like India Calling, and Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance which I bought again (later...). It is nice to have an immediate physical connection to what you're reading, like reading Friedman and looking out at the Sonata Software building. Anyways, I'm trying to read 'like a filter and not like a sponge' (The Perks of Being a Wallflower, another favourite) and so far it's going alright. I'll let you know when I'm done.

27 april-lights out

This is one of the problems with getting so behind on my blogging. Wednesday, 27 April has already practically faded away in my memory. I'm sure something happened of minor note (after all, consider how much I've talked about traffic) but I just can't recall what it is.

The trip is reaching that point where things are ceasing to amaze me. I read in the autos now, and fall asleep much easier. I don't like falling into those routines anywhere, and it is my project from now on to make sure that doesn't happen.

Wednesday we had decided would be our 'catch up on blogging day', but when I arrived home from work the power was out! Apparently it had gone out around 1pm and still wasn't back. Nani had a terrible headache and lay down to rest, prompting excessive worry on my part. There was one candle, a box of matches and a flashlight. My computer had died at work.

I read by flashlight for a while until Shruthi's mother urged me to shift to their flat, where they had power as a result of some alternate generator. We need more candles. Papa explained that the power outages were likely the result of it being summertime, raining, and the system being overloaded with so many people home from work and school.

I kind of like the silence that comes when the power goes out though. It is eerie how much there always is whirring and buzzing around us and when it's all off, how loud our voices seem.
I always imagine, somewhat romantically, that in households without power, the families could sit down every evening and have great soul-baring conversations by fireplaces, reading just a little by candlelight and tucking comfortably into bed with no lighted screens to keep the mind awake and restless.

26 april-urban solace

Our first day back at work! No one from the Grants Team was at work today, and the office was eerily quiet, very lonely! I read online though, that every Tuesday there was a slam poetry reading at a cafe called Urban Solace in Ulsoor, Bangalore. I suggested it to Joanna, and we made plans to attend.

After work, the guard outside of the office usually helps me to find an auto, directing the driver for me. If they stop across the street he'll shout "Jayanagar, Jayanagar". It is very helpful and he is a sweet elderly man who always smiles in a very friendly manner when I come in the morning and leave in the evening. But today, I stopped him- I needed to go to Kanteerava Stadium instead, to meet Joanna at the climbing wall so we could go to the poetry slam together.

Kanteerava Stadium was huge, with so many different activities going on that it took me a while to orient myself and find the climbing wall. I had come in a dress from office and could see no place to change, so instead I watched Jo and some other climbers play around on the wall for about an hour. Then, Jo and I left the stadium to hail an auto. This proved exceedingly difficult, but we finally found one and reached Urban Solace with no difficulty. The restaurant is charming, with a decidedly cafe feel, bookstores all around and a very Western menu that made me skeptical. We picked a table near the back and observed the crowd, an interesting bunch of faces...quite a few fedoras, casual cigarettes and glasses of wine if you catch my drift.

I ordered a pesto pasta and it was superb, as was our chocolate cake dessert! The woman who was speaking was a graphic designer from Bangalore, slamming poems for the first time in public. She was smart, but nervous and long-winded so it was hard to stay focused. At the table next to us was a young girl and a young man again with a fedora and spectacles. He looked enthralled by the reading, slapping his knees, snapping, calling out in admiration and clapping loudly enough to put less enthusiastic audience members to shame. He kept turning around to our table and asking if I would read, and offered to buy me a glass of wine if I did. I politely declined and told him he should read, which he did, and well.

His name was Dominic or Dominique...pronounced like the latter in any case. He was the most confident and controversial of the poets, fearlessly dropping in sexual imagery and with a delivery that sounded most like slam poets I've heard in the past. An American girl who looked a little younger than us and who was there with her other American friend read a slam poem she had written about her mum, and then one elder man read from a book he had published.

After the whole thing was over, the young girl sitting with Dominic (named Smitha) came over and sat at our table. She said her brother was in graduate school at Dartmouth and that she was heading to the University of Wisconsin in June to pursue graduate studies herself. A graduate of Bangalore Medical College, she knew Dominic from school, where he was 5 years her senior. Dominic himself eventually came and sat with us. He explained that he was working with the IPL cricket league (performing some sort of managerial functions which he hated) to make money, and that he was trying to get to know India. He told us he had no desire to travel until he knew India, which he said would take him at least 7 years.

A while passed in good conversation, and then their friend arrived, a man named Ravindra, part of a Bangalore theatre group called Rafiki. We talked with them about the youthful side in Bangalore, the drug scene, safety for women and more until finally, around 10:30, the cab I had called arrived for us. Before leaving we were given "personal affirmation cards", which we picked from a large bowl. They are these coloured cards the size and shape of business cards that say things like "no matter what challenges come your way, always remember you are loved". Outside the restaurant, Dominique gave me a string of jasmine flowers. We graciously took our leave, overwhelmed with the interesting night...The driver was Avinash, a friend of a woman I know from work who is very reliable and he safely took us home.

25 april-crepes fail

We tried the crepes place again in the morning but were informed that they didn't open until 11:30! There would be no crepes for Joanna and I in Goa, it seemed.

Instead, we ate at the Indian restaurant on the corner, which turned out to be very good. Jo had a cheese masala dosa, and the cheese made her very happy. I had a masala dosa, which was also quite good, and buttermilk to top it all off. The drive to the airport afterwards was smooth, but saying goodbye to Dadi was very sad! We promised to visit again soon.

We got to the airport with plenty of time to spare, but encountered a number of small delays. First, we were too early to put our baggage through screening. Then, they decided Spice Jet should enter security before Kingfisher passengers. So we waited and read, glad we had brought entertainment! A foreign woman impatiently waiting with her family made a rather odd comment to me. She said "no matter how long I'm here I never get used to it" and didn't offer any clarification.

Once inside security, we found we couldn't get to any of the shops and restaurants! But the flight was nice and although the drive back was long, we enjoyed being back in Bangalore. Boy, is the return to city traffic something.

24 april- spices, bom jesus, new bags

Happy Easter! In the morning, Joanna and I lazily awoke and decided to go get crepes at a crepes-and-chocolate place we has passed earlier. I was so excited but when we got there the restaurant was closed (likely for Easter). The shop next to the crepes restaurant was a small bookstore with a wide selection of foreign books, likely donated by tourists passing through. As I was contentedly browsing the shelves, an Englishwoman came into the store, very flustered. She spoke to the saleswoman urgently, asking for another woman who wasn't in the store. She wanted to speak to her about a sick dog she had seen at the beach. She tried earnestly to describe it, matted, blond, and it seemed to me that the saleswoman couldn't care less about some stray dog. But this Englishwoman went on and on, very earnestly begging for someone to come look at the dog. She called to her husband, who brought in pictures documenting the animal's plight, and these were handed to the saleswoman with a plea to please, please inform the other woman that she should go look after the dog (maybe she was a vet?).

Giving up on crepes, we went instead to a place a little further down the road called Leda Lounge. It had a nice, open feel with zebra-upholstered furniture and trendy music. Off season though, so no-one was there but us. The two bored waiters handed us a very simple breakfast menu- eggs, toast, bacon, sausage. While eating, we looked up at the TV and saw on BBC a man speaking with a Dartmouth background behind him! So we took a picture of Dartmouth here with us in Bangalore, and then headed out into the heat.

On the way back towards the hotel, we stopped at a roadside tourist stand to buy some Indian-looking fabrics. Both of us made satisfying purchases, and then we were picked up by the van with Nani and Dadi and Dada Desai. Off to the spice farm!

After driving some distance, we stopped the car at a cricket stadium and waited for Rohit Anand's car so we could follow him the rest of the way. He arrived and led us another distance, until again we waited for a car with his friends to lead the parade we formed all the way down windy roads (I am missing the platitude of Houston highways) to a spice farm called Pascoal Organic Spice Village, located in Ponda, Goa.

We walked into what looked like a rainforest, and the first thing we saw was a cage filled with emus.

Further on, we saw a sign that advertised elephant rides and behind it, an elephant held by a very short chain to a tree. It looked miserable, lifting its hind leg repeatedly to try, unsuccessfully, to take a step. Later, when we asked one of the spice village employees about it, they said the elephant was a male and thus dangerous. I don't feel like this justified anything- there was no need to keep an elephant at all!

From the parking lot, we walked through this rainforest path and then down some stairs towards an area where we heard loud singing. When we emerged into the open, we saw a circle of women dancing around some central object, clapping their hands rhythmically and singing something sort of tuneless that we were told was the 'welcome song'.

We had petals thrown in our hair, and we were garlanded with flowers and tikka-ed (where a red powder is dotted on your forehead). I didn't like this and I can't quite place why. It just seemed so forced and commercial. And it was all totally unnecessary.

Anyways after gawking at the welcome song women, we were lead to a shaded dining area where we were all served a welcome drink, a lemongrass tea with mild spices for additional flavour.

It was refreshing, and according to a placard we were given, a great cure for migraines. This placard was part of a booklet put together of natural cures derived from the spices available on the farm. The curable afflictions ranged from headaches to bad skin, bad hair, an inability to 'perform'...

Rohit Anand and Anju

were at the spice farm to play cards with their friends. They told us that every Sunday they went to play cards and sometimes chose an interesting location so they could simultaneously get in a bit of exploration. Their friends headed off to find a 'cottage' to settle down for cards, but a few, including Rohit Anand and Anju joined Nani, Joanna and I to take a spice tour. Dadi went to rest at the cottage.

The tour guide was a woman with a voice that was slightly too loud.

She would constantly reprimand members of the group who lost attention, commanding "listen, look, pay attention" in a sort of middle-school teacher way. We saw black pepper, betel nuts, curry leaves and many other spices common to Indian kitchens including a miniscule red pepper supposed to be the hottest in the world. Nani loved the tour,  and often offered her own home remedies in addition to those the tour guide explained.

We watched a man demonstrate how betel nut palms were once climbed.

He wore a cloth around his ankles and scaled the first palm kind of like that scene in Mulan...and then at the top would swing to others, back and forth with grace and minimal effort. At another point in the tour, we saw cigarettes made from banana leaf paper and natural tobacco.

There was a huge clay stove-like structure that I initially thought might be a tandoori oven.

It turned out to be a distillation machine for making liquor out of cashew nut juices (the ones that come from the fruit Jo tried on the island while paddle-boating). We were later given small shots of this liquor and I had a sip without knowing what it was...it was like fire. So nastily strong!

After the tour, we headed back to the central area. A ladle of freezing water was poured down everyone's back from an earthen pot (they hold temperature constant pretty well) and it was very refreshing! We browsed the spices that were for sale, swung in some hammocks briefly, and then all settled down at the cottage and while Rohit Anand and Anju played cards with their friends and drank, Jo and I settled down to Rummy 5000 (our extended version of Rummy 500). It was pleasant, but I would get so bored spending my Sundays like that, cards every week, the same old routine and all conversation centered around the game...

Anyways, after ages of playing cards we were finally summoned to go eat. The food was laid out in a line of earthen pots and it looked good,  but all dishes were seafood or meat in Goan style. So, Nani and I had our cabbage and rice. We were very kindly brought a pot of dahl, and it was delicious! Anju asked if Joanna and I would want to go paddle-boating, but at the spice farm it cost 300 Rs a person, and was just not worth it.

Dada Desai, our driver, was pacing back and forth on a gravel stretch with his eyes on the ground and Nani asked him what was up. He confessed that he had lost the keys to the van, and a mild panic broke loose. He said he remembered taking the keys from the car, and was sure he had lost them while pulling his handkerchief out of his pocket (he had lost the kerchief as well). A plethora of suggestions were thrown out, increasingly complex. One was that we drive back to the hotel with Rohit Anand, find a locksmith, get the driver to come back with the locksmith, have him make a key, and then we would fly out while the driver would take a bus back...etc etc etc. It all became very confusing.

The driver and Rohit Anand set out to do the spice tour once more and hopefully find the keys on the path. Others headed back to the cottage to continue playing cards and wait...I went to the parking lot because no one had actually checked the car yet.

There were the keys, still in the ignition inside the locked car. I went to the information window at the end of the parking lot and asked the group of men inside if they could help me open the car. At first they refused, thinking I had come in an expensive taxi, but when I told them it was an Omni, they thought they might be able to help. So, the whole group followed me to the car and started to push against one of the windows, hoping the lock would be weak and give way. After a lot of pushing, they managed to force the window open and we opened the door and grabbed the keys. Unfortunately this broke the window and we suffered through less fresh air on the drive home as a result. But let's call that a lesser of two evils.

So, we brought the keys back. Everyone with the exception of Nani, Joanna, Dadi and I started admonishing the driver behind his back. In fact, they had been admonishing him throughout the ordeal. How stupid could he be, how irresponsible, make him suffer, it's his fault he should deal with it, and on and on. I couldn't believe it! Yes, it was a minor annoyance, but everything worked out so quickly that there was nothing to stress about. And everyone loses their keys. Honestly.

After the spice farm, we headed to Old Goa to see the Basilica of Bom Jesus.

It is a World Heritage Site famous for holding the remains of St. Francis Xavier, and was consecrated in 1605. The place was pretty populated by tourists, and opposes another big church in Goa, the Se Cathedral, also built by the Portuguese during their occupation of Goa. Inside the cathedral, it was very crowded and looking towards the main altar, we could see that a wedding was taking place!

It seemed like such an unfortunate setting for a wedding, with so many tourists crowding up, but I guess to each his own. We walked through adjacent rooms, looking at artwork and finally stopping before St. Francis Xavier's remains in a thoroughly majestic tomb. Nani and I donated money, specifying on the donation form that it should go to the poor. I did this mainly because I found the detailed donation form very interesting. You had so much 'choice' about where your money was headed! 

Se Cathedral was quieter than the Basilica, so I liked it more. It was pristine and not cluttered with tacky decor the way the church in Mysore had been. We walked around for a while, and then headed back out to the van. On the way, a young boy tried to sell me candles, these ultra thin white wax ones that every peddler outside the churches seemed to be selling. Most of the vendors were so obnoxious and it frustrated me to see that outside a religious building. To this boy, I gave money but didn't take a candle. I don't know why, I didn't even think about it, I just didn't want a candle and I wanted to give him something. But it seemed kind of inappropriate afterward and I couldn't decide how I felt about it.

We asked the driver to take us to Panjim, a city in North Goa famed for casinos and boat tours, 30 km away. Instead, he took us 30 km in the other direction, back towards the hotel! When Nani realized this, she asked him why and he said there was nothing to see in Panjim. Probably a decision he should have consulted us about...

So we stopped in a South Indian restaurant to eat. We opted for the A/C room, which was very weird. It was shut in, with blasting A/C and bad lighting, two long tables as the only furniture. It reminded me of one of those side rooms at Discovery Zone where kids eat cake. If that makes sense. The food was absolutely horrible. Watery chutney, oily tasteless sambar, undercooked idli. Literally inedible!

Our last stop before home was to go buy some bags. We discovered that with Dadi's gifts and our souvenir purchases in Savantwadi and Goa, we had too much luggage. We stopped in at one of the tourist shops, and started haggling for bags. The guy in the shop wouldn't haggle as low as we wanted, explaining that then he would make no profit off of his wholesale price. I always sympathize with that argument, although I have no way of knowing if he's telling the truth. I had a nice little talk with him about where he was from and how business was, and we ended up buying two great bags, all rough and colourful. Mine is definitely one I hope to use for a long time.

Finally, we headed back to Sea Mist where we read, watched TV and tucked in for our last night in Goa.