Tuesday, February 2, 2010

Marble Palace de Bangalore




Charles and I are now living in an apartment here in Bangalore which we like to call "The Marble Palace." We went through a leasing agent and quickly realized that anything that reminded us of our house in Minnie was simply not to be found in central Bangalore (you know; energy efficient, modern, reasonably sized for 2 people). This place is a monstrosity! It's so big it's vulgar, obscene even when you consider how the vast majority of Indians live. We live in a 3,800 square foot luxury flat in a building that houses 6 flats, including the 2 story penthouse for the Managing Director of Toyota India. You could fit two of our townhomes in here. We have 3 bedrooms all with a connecting full bathrooms and terraces, an office, a formal living room, informal living room (the jump-rope room), full terrace off the back connecting the living rooms, foyer, powder room, dining room, kitchen, laundry room, and maid's quarters with bathroom. And it's covered in cream marble! I called the informal living room my jump-rope-room because for 2 weeks that's all that was in it. The first week we were in the flat we were so desperate to be out of the hotel that we made due with our kitchen equipment, computer desk, and two beds. That's it. We waited 5 days for the kitchen table and chairs, and an additional week for our sofa and chairs. It was like camping! It's a good thing Charles and I are easy going. Now that we're back from our trip home for the holidays, we're settled in and have what we need. To make it more livable we've closed off the office and put the computer desk in the informal living room, and try to forget about the third bedroom since it's just used for linen storage in one of the floor to ceiling built-ins. We've got the basics as far as furniture, but it's still quite bare. We negotiated a stipend from the owners of the flat for furniture and appliances that will stay here when we leave(then they can rent it as furnished next go round), and we've been hard-pressed to make many purchases of our own since we'll be here such a short amount of time. We're not really "stuff-people" so it's unnecessary to buy a lot of crap to ship home to our already furnished house. I do want some handmade silk table runners and placemats though. So, nothing on the wall, no rugs, and Charles has to make his overseas calls in the bedroom so the bed absorbs the echo! The day that the "100% dryer" arrived, I had to be cultural liaison and give a lesson to both the leasing agent and her "boy" as to why I would need it and how it works. Tina said that it must be an American luxury because her housekeeper still cleans her clothes by beating them on a rock in a stream near her house, then the clothes are hung to dry! That's been a joke too, American and Indian luxuries. I think servants are a luxury, and Tina thinks they are a necessity. Tina has 3 full time servants and couldn't live without them. Life experiences, I guess.




Check out Facebook for all my pics of the flat.



That reminds me, Kavitha is here today. I hired a housekeeper because of peer pressure and a sense of community service or charity. ALL the expat ladies, and Charles co-workers, and Tina couldn't believe I didn't have a housekeeper lined up. Tina was in such disbelief that she went out and found one for me. Kavitha works Monday-Saturday mornings/afternoons in 2 of the other flats in the building, and Wednesday from 1-5 (usually) for us. Ours is the only arrangement I've heard of that isn't 5 or 6 days a week. I simply don't need that much help, and this way people stay off my back about having someone! Some of my girlfriends say that they make as much of a mess as they can so that their housekeeper doesn't complain that she's bored during her 4 hour shift. (Why do we do this? Why have we all separately and collectively agreed to have these housekeepers we don't need? I know "it's a living," and these women can support a family on what they make, but are we so lazy? I tell myself it's for Kavitha, not really for me. It's the same reason that Bangalore hires thousands of people to sweep the streets every morning instead of buying an automated street-sweeper; it's a job. What else would those people do? I guess that's another topic for later. Suffice to say, the profusion of manual labor is a huge cultural difference, and I'm not used to it.) Kavitha does what I hate doing; cleaning the floors, bathrooms, and ironing. That takes her the 4 hours she's here. I CAN'T BELIEVE how much DIRT makes its way into this place!!! Daily, I wash my feet as often as I wash my hands. It's interesting because Indian clean is absolutely not the same as American and Kim clean. No way. But Kavitha does as best she can in the war against dust, pollution, and hard water stains. Just as with Deepak, Kavitha is kind of weirded-out by our casual ways. She doesn't have much to say to me and is uncomfortable when I small talk. Today, for example, I saw her on the street when I was walking home from the grocery store and we walked to the flat together. I asked her about her weekend, and she asked me if she could carry my bags. I know she understood my question, but she's not a big talker. Her English is ok, not great, so maybe she just didn't have the words to explain what she did this weekend. Oh man, or she doesn't really get a weekend. Cleaning 6 days a week, and then 1 day home with the family probably doesn't leave a lot of time for leisure activities. It's also another cultural difference; I don't know any better. I try and talk to her, but it's ME that's being weird.



For her 4 hours here, I'll pay her the going rate. She'll leave today with 220 INR. That's $5.

Friday, January 22, 2010

Freak


 

Many of you witnessed my rather unpleasant, unsightly, and unflattering return-trip-freak-out, and for that I am sorry (Poor Jenny even fed me coffee while I was talking about it. I was tweaking on stress and caffeine). To fill you all in, one week before our return flight I checked my email only to see a distressing email from the third-party that handles US-India Visas. I have a valid one-year, multiple-entry, Indian Travel Visa. Anyway, this email told of the new and sweeping policy on foreigners re-entering India on Travel Visas; those wishing to re-enter must be out of the country for two solid months before they will be allowed back in. The problem was, I'd only been out one month. Oh yeah, Charles was unaffected by this because he's in on a Work Visa. We had to decide whether to just go for it, knowing that the black and white of it was on our side (I am a true tourist and the Indian government has an amendment to the new rules stating that actual tourists are unaffected by this so India's tourism revenue isn't jeopardized. Plus, I'd only been in country for 60 days. I guess anything over 180 days means you actually do have to do the two month sit-out), or do we reschedule my flight for a month later. It would have been 6 weeks really; that was the first ticket back we could find that wasn't $5,000. The problem is, this is India. Anything could happen.


 

The policy change is all due to the unfortunate events of 11.26, a terrorist bombing in Mumbai last year that lasted 3 days and killed over 160 people. One of the bombers had dual Afghani and US passports, and was in India on a US issued Indian Travel Visa, just like mine. The new rules were totally reactionary and don't address the real problem; the poor screening process to obtain an Indian Travel Visa, and terrorism in general (duh, Kim). The Indian government thinks that if foreigners are out of the country for two months or longer, our dastardly terrorist plots will be thwarted. Ok, if I were evil, don't you think I'd just coach my minions to continue my work while I chill abroad? What do I know.


 

My freak-out came when we had to decide to go for it or wait. I know it doesn't sound like a big difference, but basically we had to decide "does Kim chill out and do nothing in Minneapolis for an extra 6 weeks to play it safe, or do we chance it, whatever the ramifications, so she can continue to do nothing in India while Charles works." I'm unemployed (FYI, I prefer "on leave." It sounds better, and temporary, which it is) and under stimulated, for sure, but it seems more productive when I'm in India because I get to at least be Charles' hausfrau and experience the culture. It feels a bit more purposeful. Not to mention, I kind of like Charles and it would be really hard to be away from him for so long. Our worst case scenario was that I get to Bangalore after a 30 hour commute, a middle-management Immigration officer who barely speaks English sees "Travel Visa" in my passport and denies my re-entry, I sit in the airport for 2 days until the next flight, and then fly home on a very expensive last-minute ticket. It was stressful. We even discussed the possibility of this being IT if the return flight was too expensive. Charles can't afford to keep flying me around the world, so I'd be grounded in Minneapolis. That's it; it's over. That was my biggest fear, the possibility that I'd altered my life for a full year only to be in India for 2 months. It made me feel like I was gonna puke. We got legal counsel from SUPERVALU, but the lawyer could only give us a 50/50 chance (Mom, I lied when I told you it was a "sure thing." You already don't sleep enough.). What the SUPERVALU lady did give me was confidence. She armed me with 24 hour phone numbers to the law firm they work with here in India, copies of the new laws highlighted with my exemptions and the legality of my re-entry, and some tips on what to say or not say when I made it to the Immigration checkpoint.


 

After our killer flights, it was time to see where I stood. Those of you who know me can testify to my neck being my stress barometer. When I'm pissed, stressed, nervous, or drunk, my neck gets red blotches. So a tired, stress-sweating, splotchy necked Kim walks up to the Immigration officer, hoping for the best. Obviously I'm here and this is anti-climactic, but those 3 minutes talking to the Immigration officer were the longest 3 minutes of my life. He DID see Travel Visa and noted my one month absence, but was satisfied with my verbally diuretic answer to, "Where will you travel here?" Kim: "DelhiAgraChennaiGoaKeralaPondicherryMumbaiMangaloreHyderbad. Thank you."

Triumphant Blogging Return

January 22, 2010

Did you know I haven't blogged since my birthday? Unfortunately, I've become one of those predictable newbie bloggers who goes gung-ho right away but their fervor dies, their trip becomes more like real-life than a unique new experience, and there you have it. It's more complicated than that, but I'll be more dedicated in the future. Look for some retro-blogging as I remember all the super cool things I did in December and January, inclusive of Bollywood dancing classes, moving into the new apartment and out of the hotel (!), being hijacked by an auto-rickshaw driver, having a crap-tastic volunteer experience, socializing with the other Expats, PARIS, and a much-needed trip home for the holidays. I guess if you've been reading my Facebook posts, you haven't missed much. Sorry Kimasutra readers; friend me on Facebook.

Monday, November 23, 2009

Happy Birfday to me!


Charles and I actually celebrated my birthday yesterday with a day of R and R and a very shi shi dinner out.  We slept in, had a nice breakfast at the hotel, read the newspaper and booked our hotel for Paris (I absolutely do know how lucky I am).  Then we went and worked out at the health club and sunned ourselves for a while.  This was a momentous occasion because I’ve been saving my favorite magazine, Real Simple, for this day.  It’s been hard to leave it untouched in my rucksack.  The afternoon was just nice.  And the sun was out!  We’ve been suffering through overcast and rainy days lately, so a Sunday full of sun was welcome.  Charles was going to try to read fiction *gasp* but ended up playing cricket on my cell phone.  The upside, he now knows how to play cricket.  Then we got ready for my special birthday dinner.

 I haven’t written about this yet, but we’ve been able to take advantage of the hotel’s happy hour.  They have a lounge where all the traveling businessmen meet up in the evenings for free drinks and Indian appetizers.  It’s really quite nice.  I’m almost always the only woman in the room.  Like I’ve said, there are plenty of European and American businessmen around the hotel, and Bangalore in general.  So last night we had a drink, some munchies, and schmoozed with this week’s worth of business travelers (Two gentlemen from St Louis who work for Boeing).  It’s reaffirmed the need to be good at small talk, and it is an art I’m just now appreciating.  Some people can do it, and some just can’t.  I digress. 

Dinner was at Blue Ginger, a Thai restaurant in the Taj West End hotel, perhaps the most famous, and certainly the oldest, hotel in Bangalore.  I’d watched a program  on the Travel Channel featuring the Taj in Bangalore because it’s one of the few “Grand Old Ladies” build under British Imperialism that hasn’t been turned into a government building or fallen into disrepair.  This hotel is amazing.  It’s ornate and beautiful, and has not only the large main hotel building, but several small guest cottages.  It’s also famous for employing a botanist to tend the thousands of plant species first installed by the British.  Bangalore is at 3000 ft, so it can support plants from lower and higher elevations easily, leading to really beautiful and diverse flora.  I’ve learned in our short time here that India does DRAMA really well.  The restaurant was a series of white tents surrounded by water.  It was like a mini island, dramatically draped in beautiful bright fabrics, dripping with candles, and full of pillows.  Think fabric blowing in the evening breeze and the sound of palm fronds rubbing.  There were wicker seats with silk pillows, lounge areas, an open kitchen, hanging lanterns, gigantic handcrafted ceramic vases, and the constant sound of water moving and bubbling over the little water features.  There was champagne, prawns, white fish and beef, and crèm brule!    Cheers!








Today I woke up to a great surprise.  Paula from Bibelot sent me two pictures of the ladies dressed up in birthday garb holding a sign wishing me a happy birthday.  It made my day to see Camille, Jenny, Paula, Lisa, and Shaun wearing goofie glasses and hats.  It was so thoughtful.  The well wishes didn’t stop there.  Somehow the hotel staff know it’s my birthday (Charles said he had nothing to do with it) and I’ve been truly overwhelmed with the number of well wishers I’ve had today. I know that we’ve been here for a while, and I’m a memorable face among all the men and the brown faces, plus I’m kind to the people I interact with everyday (of course!).  At breakfast alone two of our usual servers had to shake my hand and use their best English to wish me a brilliant year.  I was stopped on the way to the gym by one of the hostesses to apologize for not wishing me a happy birthday earlier, and again, shaking my hand.  Then on the way down to the pool I was again congratulated and told that my cake would be in the room shortly.  The cake!   Birthdays here are a big deal.  I knew something was up when Deepak also had to shake my hand last night and had rehearsed my well wishes.  There is no way you can go under the radar here. 

This afternoon I ran some errands, which usually isn’t blog-worthy, but today’s trip into central Bangalore lead me to Health & Glow, a beauty supply store.  The products here are astounding!  I’ve talked about the preference for light skin and the skin whitening products, but today I was face to face with a full aisle of lightening and whitening products.  It’s nuts!  These products promise to lighten skin by two shades in 14 days.  I’m a label reader, so these products contain lemon extract, salicylic acid, AHAs, and lots of exfoliants.  I learned that cotton balls are cotton wool, that nail polish is nail varnish, and that a white lady walking into Health & Glow does not go unnoticed.  I wasn’t left alone the entire time I was there.  I told the lady my problems; brittle hair from the chemical laiden tap water, unvarnished nails (!), and oily skin from the warm weather, and POOF!  The hook up.  The products are interesting, and I tried to avoid things I could find at home, despite my brand loyalty and the fear that I’ll turn into one big zit.  You only live once.  Typical of any Indian store, it was small, cramped, dirty, loud, and disorganized.  Shopping is an adventure here.  After the beauty supplies were firmly on my person, I walked down to Church Street to find my magazine guy.  I am absolutely in love with Indian magazines.  I have a real love for magazines anyway, something about the glossy pages, the leisure of reading them, whatever it is, it’s only made better by reading about fashion, exercise, and how to care for your family through the Indian lense.  I think what I’ve learned from my books on Indian culture is eclipsed by what I learn about Indian life from my magazines.  I’ll bring some home to show what I mean.  Indian Cosmopolitan, Better Homes & Gardens, and People are my favorites.  Also of note, while I will never get used to the visible poverty, I have become more comfortable saying no to beggars.  The way that I give is through the Overseas Women’s Club and my English lessons with Oasis (more on that later), not through giving money on the street.  The harassment is intense  but you just can’t give.  The worst is when you see an elderly woman holding a baby; perfectly orchestrated to elicit maximum guilt. 

Ok, off to plan dinner.  I’m looking forward to the time when going out to a restaurant is once again a ‘treat,’ not a daily chore.  We hope to move into our apartment this weekend or early next week.  Fingers crossed!
XOXO Kim

Wine Club

Charles has some serious hair; his one vanity.  Well, that and he’s really really good looking.  We’ve been here for three weeks and CW’s hair needed  a trim, so we had our first experience with an Indian beauty salon!  I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t happy it’s him who test drove the salon because I’ve got my hair vanity too, you know.  This was on of “the best” European style salons in Bangalore, and if that’s true then I’m terrified of what some of the “just average” or “worst” ones are like.  This place was packed full of people, like all of India, and there was shorn hair all over (even in the magazine I read as I waited), the hairdryers were tossed onto the hair-covered floor between uses, and if the scissors and combs are cleaned then we didn’t see it.  He paid about $10 for the cut, and gave a $1.50 tip.  It looks OK, but they kind of took the tip off of his signature point.  L  After the salon experience, we went off to pick up a few bottles of wine and dessert for tonight’s wine dinner with the OWC Wine Club!




Karen and her driver Moses (related to Deepak somehow) picked us up for the 90 minute drive from Bangalore to Soma Veneyards , Maakli Hills, Doddaballapur.  The ride took us out to a rural area for the first time.  We saw farms, hills, small villages and hamlets, Hindu temples, cows, sheep, goats and monkeys.  Moses followed the directions given by the Wine Club, which lead us on this horribly bumpy, twisty-turny, washed out road once we left the paved “freeway.”  We were following hugely overloaded trucks, watching out for guys on two wheelers, and trying to find our way.  It was a real adventure.  The best part of the ride was when we saw these really aggressive monkeys and Moses starts to whistle and clap while Charles had the window down to take a picture…and they lunged as if to jump in the car!  It scared the crap out of the Americans.  Moses just laughed.




I was not prepared for the beauty of Indian wine country.  This vineyard was stunning.  STUNNING!  The vineyard is in a valley between hills, facing a lake.  The colors of India are so vibrant; dark red clay soil, bright blue sky, and vibrant green grape leaves.  The vines are supported by granite posts, and though it’s fall, the foliage is still green, not brown and dying.  We were immediately met by the Wine Club, given fresh coconuts to drink, and walked the vineyard.  Truth be told, our tour of the vineyard was as much a tour to fine a good place to pee as anything.  That was one long car ride!  The plan for the evening was to talk with Soma Vineyards owner, Rajus, taste the wines we all brought, and BBQ in the starlight. 




We met at least 20 other Expats that night, including Brian who will be our block away neighbor once we move from the hotel.  I also met Rita and another Karen who work for Oasis, a non-profit that teaches English to slum girls and gives them vocational training so they can break from the cycle of poverty.  Guess who starts Tuesday?  You know it.  Not only do they teach slum girls, this organization sends operatives in to pluck girls from the rampant prostitution rings.  Human trafficking is big here, as is prostitution.  This is a third world country. 




The whole evening was idyllic; beautiful scenery, good wine, great people, and some fine steak.  Yes, steak.  

Thursday, November 19, 2009

Lady in Red

Saturday, November 7th








Ok, so I realize that pub culture is pretty ubiquitous, but today was something I've never experienced. After a day of more bad apartment visits, INCLUDING hearing Tina say the word "Japs" in reference to a Japanese tenant, we decided it was time for beer. A neighboring hotel advertises an Irish pub, the Dublin, so we thought we should go. I'm writing this with a stupid grin on my face because just thinking of it is making me laugh. We went to and Irish bar, in India, drank Indian beer and had fish and chips. As if that wasn't enough, they had a cover band. These were 5 guys, with their posse of friends, singing bad songs from the 80s and 90s. These guys were reading the song lyrics off of their cell phone! Apparently you can download a lyrics application. So we're the two white people in the pub, listening to this cover band and enjoying our Kinfisher, when Charles decides that we need to request a song. I, for some stupid reason, decide that these guys must know "Lady in Red." So Charles requests it and the dedication goes out "To Keem from Chalees." These guys sing songs that I know all the words to, because that's my idiot savant skill, and we just end up having a big sing along. If we weren't being stared at before, well now it's out of control. It was a pretty great night.

Overseas Women’s Club

Thursday, November 5th

Today I joined a club that is going to be my saving grace here in Bangalore. The Overseas Women's Club of Bangalore is a club dedicated to making the move to India do-able, and provides a support group for the "trailing spouses," which, I guess, I am. They have coffee hours, book clubs, lunch clubs, cooking classes, happy hours, wine club, and just generally organize events for Expats. The best thing is, they have volunteer positions with reputable charities already set up and all I need to do is pick one! The bad thing is, at today's meeting they actively discouraged me from signing up to volunteer until we're settled into an apartment. I'm not sure why that makes a difference, but until we're settled, I can't volunteer. The charity list just about makes you cry. There are organizations for the elderly who have been kicked onto the street because their families can't take care of them, tutoring for children with HIV-AIDS, groups to assist the blind, etc. It just breaks your heart. I know there are these kinds of organizations at home too, but with a population of 8.1 million, and people visibly sleeping on the streets and eating garbage in alleyways, this seems worse. Oh yeah, and today I learned that every conversation with other adult Expats inevitably leads to a discussion of your bowels. Adults here talk about poop, a lot. I'm just going to channel my inner 13 year old.

After coffee club, Charles and I went to Commercial Street to get a real taste of shopping with the people. We went to a restaurant with no menu descriptions and servers who spoke no English, and the most disgusting bathroom I've ever seen. We ate dangerously, but it turns out we got some awesome food. If we were going to get sick from food, Commercial Street would be the worst place possible. It was wall to wall people on one block with shops everywhere, and more people and more shops off the side streets. Beggars with no arms, or kids trying to shine your shoes saying "Hey auntie, hey uncle, shine your shoes?" Dogs eating garbage in the street and pooping on the sidewalk. Street hawkers. Fruitwallas. Vegwallas. Just people everywhere! I think both Charles and I were inches away from a panic attack. I needed to leave after an hour because it was just exhausting being in that kind of a foreign environment.