We recently hired a new manager at work and, for a little team bonding, we all went out for drinks. We decided on a sports bar called “The Sports Bar” on the 4th floor of the GIP mall. This was about the coolest sports bar I’ve seen (not that I frequent many, but still.) It had three giant stair-step levels of tables overlooking a large projected screen. The inner row of tables each had individual TVs. If you are serious about watching and eating, this is the place to go. Assuming you want to watch cricket, of course. Because the “IPL” is the thing to watch. (Indian Premier League)

The Sports Bar

We had a lot of appetizers for dinner, the most mouth-watering being this lamb kebab thing (served on a metal grate with still-fiery flames underneath.) Delicious! Less impressive was the plate of “nachos.”

Enough to feed a fraction of an American

Had two mojitos and a sangria! That’s way a lot for me. Tried to not think about the ice factor. Most of the others just had a beer except for the other gal who had the same drinks I did. The beer to drink in India is “Kingfisher.” There is also Kingfisher airlines! According to Wiki, the parent company’s “core business includes beverages, aviation, electrical and chemicals.” Odd mix indeed.

I almost ordered dessert because just the concept of an “oozing warm chocolate effect” was almost irresistible.

Tell me more about this effect…

The music selection here reminded me of when I went to The Big Chill several weeks ago. It was nostalgic 70s and 80s western music. We heard Take On Me. (I asked if anyone at the table knew the song. No one from India had!) Then YMCA. My coworkers just looked blankly at me doing the YMCA dance. Then Hotel California (which I can’t hear without quoting The Big Lebowski in my head), Stayin’ Alive, Video Killed the Radio Star, Dancing Queen, Faith (George Michael), and La Isla Bonita. At some point, they switched it up and it was 2000s music like Green Day and Coldplay. Random. Awesome for me, of course, but random.

And, as only people who have had too many mojitos do, we took silly photos with Pete’s sunglasses.

Sunglasses at night

The day after that, I did something I’ve never done before. I ate lunch from the market. There is a street market right outside our building complex that serves quite a variety of food. Although I’ve gone out there many times with the gang for a chai after lunch, I’ve never had more than a bite of the stuffed paranthas (fried bread) available at the same stall. I either eat from one of the three places within the cafeteria (which I discovered are subsidized which is why it is so inexpensive) or just bring leftovers. With the help of a member of the team, I got an entire potato and onion parantha from the street market for lunch. It was very hot (even after I brought it back to the building’s cafeteria to consume) but I enjoyed it a lot. And I did not get ill afterward. Chris calls street food “Street Meat” even though most of it doesn’t actually have meat in it. So, this was my first “Street Meat” meal (though my co-workers assure me that the yellow-tarp place has a higher standard of hygiene compared to the other places. Notably, I am the one who calls it the yellow tarp place since it was how I recognized it at first. No idea what they call it.)

I also discovered that the lassi I’ve had there on occasion has crushed ice in it (to keep it cool, I’m assuming). Chances that the ice here – as opposed to The Sports Bar or other restaurant – is made from filtered water is Not High I am thinking. I can’t believe I haven’t gotten sick. But I’m now nervous about having another one, despite that they are quite tasty.

Enjoying yellow-tarp-booth chai at the market outside my work

I must be homesick. I listened to Midnight Oil, my official homesick music, for about an hour. Must have been ’cause of the Skype fail this weekend. And, like happens to me at least when I revisit songs I haven’t listened to in years, but used to know note-by-note, it has now been stuck in my head for a week.

And, nothing to do with anything, I was at work, looking into a currency-related bug and found the currency code mapping. You know how “USD” is US Dollars? And usually, there are similar abbreviations for other countries and their currencies? Some funny ones I noticed:

• “ESP” Spanish Peseta
• “MAD” Moroccan Dirham
• “YUM” Yugoslavia New Dinar
• “COP” Colombian Peso
• “EEK” Estonia Kroon
• “BOB” Bolivian Boliviano

I didn’t realize BOB was legal tender! In any case, I promise that I’m plenty busy at work, not just scrolling through code looking for YUM! Our daily taxi keeps me from working overtime, which is good, though it always seems to come just as I’m getting going solving something.

This weekend’s trip began at 6:30am from Delhi. Five of us + driver piled in the SUV and started north. We soon passed by “Haveli” at Karnal again (locale of our group’s first outing) but stopped to eat further down at a “government-run” restaurant, whatever that means, where I learned of yet another delicious fried flatbread called puri. From Indian restaurants back home, you’d think your bread options consisted of only naan, but there is so much more. Puri is sliced very thin and uber fried. Therefore freakin’ delicious. Slightly smaller than the similar poofy bread served with chole batura. (Brief side rant. Not appreciated: telling me that trying to put on my seat belt is “unnecessary”. The lack of a law and/or skill of the driver are irrelevant to my reasoning.)

The Delhi Road Trip Group

The highway was in good shape; we passed by fields and towns quickly in our air-conditioned vehicle. We crossed the state border of Haryana first, then Punjab, then Himachal Pradesh (two new states today! Seven, all together since I arrived.) The last hour of the seven-or-so-hour journey was spent ascending a vertical mile from Chandigarh at 1150ft to our destination Shimla at 7200ft.

This road was built to induce motion sickness. Tight, twisty turns all the way up the mountain. I kept my eyes firmly out the window and managed to avoid feeling too nauseous. As we climbed in altitude, I noticed something unusual. Trees full of red flowers. Purple flowers. Hillsides full of white flowers. It then occurred to me. Oh right, it’s spring! (Nothing like over-100-degree temps to make one forget that, no, we aren’t anywhere near “summer” in Delhi yet.)

Oh, springtime! Forgot about that.

The view was beautiful. These mountains are not empty hillsides full of trees… quite a few houses and little towns were all along the way. Shimla was the “British summer capital” so the route between it and Delhi got (and still gets) a lot of traffic. But nothing was quite like that first glimpse of a what a city on a mountainside looks like.

Road to Shimla

I’m not sure I can describe why Shimla looked so DIFFERENT to me. So much like nothing like I’d ever seen. And this is me, who has seen plenty of mountain towns in Colorado. I think it was partially because the city was not built in a valley, in a clearing, along the river, or any place that made obvious sense. Also, a good portion of the buildings were tall and close together. Seems like they picked some random mountains and plopped a full city onto the side, multi-story hotels and all.

Houses of Shimla

Parking garages right on the top, there

Fearless monkeys

And at the top, not a temple, but a church.

There are not a lot of roads. The main, twisty road through the middle has just enough room for one vehicle in each direction and a few tributary roads off that. I can not see how you would access the majority of houses. I also don’t know why the main road was not more packed; they told me parking was at an extreme premium which made sense, but it seems like the road should be constantly jammed. I also can not picture this place in winter, though a Google-image search of Shimla will get you all sorts of snow-covered photos. (I also am baffled at how the electricity and plumbing work here, especially the latter.)

View from the top

Took this very close to the above photo
A hidden understreet

Unlike any Indian city I’ve been to, the main spiritual attraction here is not a temple but a church.

(And I still had to take off my shoes inside)

The flat spot atop the hill where the church rested was a popular place for tourists and I saw quite a variety. There were also the requisite tourist activities. You could pay to take a ride on a fancy horse. The most persistant salesperson (besides the one asking if I was interested in any day tours) showed me photos and offered the chance to put on traditional clothing and get my own photograph taken. I declined, partially because the traditional dress of this area would have no cultural context for me but also partially because of the idea of wearing clothes hundreds of people before me have worn was not all that attractive.

Also at the top of the hill were some statues of both Mahatma Gandhi and Indira Gandhi (no actual relation, apparently) who became the prime minister when her father died. The airport is named after her. So is my neighborhood. “Indirapuram” means “Indira-city”.

Lady Gandhi

My favorite part of Shimla was a surprise to me. As we were walking along the steep sidewalk that led up to the church… I turned around to take a photo of the street below, but glanced upward briefly. Then I saw it.

THERE IS A GIANT PINK STATUE ON TOP OF THE MOUNTAIN!

That’s what I said. The others looked at me, bemused. I was just like, “Giant… Pink… Statue… ON THE MOUNTAINSIDE! How cool is that?!” They let my eyes bug out of my head for several minutes. Then we kept walking. If I had more time, I may have considered trying to hike up to it.

Pink statue overlooks the European-influenced town.

Seriously, how was that thing built? Further, the major (who had been stationed here so was familiar with the locale) told me it was all one piece of stone. If this town hadn’t already blown my mind… wow!

Another awesome thing about Shimla:

Sidewalks

The “Mall”

A monkey with expensive taste

Down the stairs to the next level of pedestrian avenue

The lower marketplace; feeling a bit more local

Same ‘fancy’ name as the store in Rishikesh
(but still doesn’t make sense)

Stairs, elevators, and steeply inclined sidewalks. That is how you get around as a pedestrian in Shimla. How does furniture make it up? I saw several men carrying heavy loads including a guy with a refrigerator on his back. Every time I saw one of these men, usually with his whole body – and sometimes forehead too – strapped to thing on his back (and sometimes bent over double to carry it), I let him by. I almost took a photo of one of them, but even if he would not have seen me, it seemed slightly rude, like I was treating his labor-intensive job as tourism. I settled for photographing this monkey momma along the same street instead.

Awwwwwwww

In the middle of the town is something simply called “The Lift” which is what it sounds like: an elevator (a series of two elevators actually) that takes you up from the main street level to the main pedestrian level. We had to take The Lift (10 rupees a ride) to the top, then go another seven stories once we reached our hotel and then up two flights of stairs to reach our room. The elevators were fairly small, and often had a line to get in (though not a long one) but they did the job and did not break down like one sign warned about.

Count ’em, three elevators just to reach our hotel room.

The hotel looked nice from the outside. The interior decoration was lovely and tasteful. But I really wish it were in the average Indian hotel’s better interest to make the sheets and towels look really clean. There should not be any ambiguity; I should not have to wonder if the towels and sheets have gotten washed (and not just folded neatly) after the last guest. I mean, they weren’t really dirty… just not really sparkling white clean. The not-quite-fresh-looking state of the sheets and towels has been consistent in every hotel in India I’ve been to (except the five-star in Jaipur whose sheets and towels were pristine.) I suspect they were just hand washed in cold water with weak detergent, no bleach, and dried outside. That makes the most sense. But I hate wondering.

Looking toward Bridge View Hotel

The toilet paper in the room was too damp to use; in a bathroom where the shower has no barrier to the toilet area, that should be an expected problem with some sort of solution. (Though, the shower did have hot water at least!) I was just glad personally that I brought my own toilet paper and pillowcase. And that my aim was good in killing the three flies that were in my room when I arrived.

Otherwise, the hotel was perfectly serviceable. The food was decent. The staff were nice. The monkeys were content.

Hanging out on the hotel terrace

View from the terrace (day and night)

Church (and statue) at night

The evening was interesting. We met up with a couple (the girl was Sri Lankan, the guy was Nepalese) and later decided to go to a play put on by an acquaintance of the major’s who had traveled from Delhi with his troupe. Although the play was in Hindi, it was extremely visual and so the majority was quite understandable (and very good.) It was called “The Wall of Delhi” and told the story of a young man wooing a woman among the poor and struggling of the city. Things took a turn for the worse when he found some hidden money (in a wall), spent it lavishly to impress the girl, was later questioned and accidentally discovered a political scandal, where his situation rapidly deteriorated. (The play was a statement on corruption.)

After the play, we went back up to the hotel for dinner and wine (provided by, who else, the Frenchman) with the two new members of our group. We chatted while the chilly (!) wind blew, until I was dozing.

Wine on the terrace

The next morning after breakfast (omelette! but I had to ask for “chilled” milk to go with the cereal as they only had hot milk available) we got back up into the car and drove even higher up the twisty road in the mountains above Shimla, up past all the people on horses, to a small little market where you could purchase textiles, cool wooden clocks that would not fit in my suitcase, or you could pay someone to sit on a yak while your friends took photos.

Also, cool views and stuff.

And a “barking deer”
(though I didn’t hear anything)

I was pretty tired today. One of the others asked me “why are you tired?” which I had no answer to since I had gotten enough sleep. I’m not sure what to say to the pronouncement that “I look tired.” If I look hungry, I can eat. If I look sunburnt, I can get out the sunscreen. But I can’t do anything about being tired right in the middle of a trip. I have to keep plowing on, which I will, I just won’t be as energetic about it. It’s probably because I took two very long trips two weekends in a row (with multiple 5am mornings), and it was finally catching up with me. And I think for that long of a road trip, having part of our less-than-24-stay be additional time in the car seemed like not the ideal option. At any rate, we stopped briefly back at Shimla on our way down to pack up our luggage and snap a few more photos.

Hillside Houses

I like that the above sign exists. (There is also a ban on smoking in the whole city, which one of our group found out the hard way, even though we had seen the sign.) I still saw garbage, but less of it and almost none on the streets. I couldn’t tell if that was because it is easy to toss trash down the hill (out of sight) or if people actually litter less. Also, I like that the fine is $100. I’ve seen some fines that are less than $5… which seems like more of an invitation than a deterrent.

Oh, now they tell me
(Also, watch your spectacles!)

With our two new passengers (which we had exactly enough room for), we headed back down from the cool air of the lower Himalayas to the summer of the plains. To be frank, I was a little surprised how trusting the two were… it made me a bit suspicious, even. But all was well. . They told me they had come from Delhi by bus – a twelve-hour journey made longer by frequent passenger-road-sick stops, apparently. Not fun.

We had lunch at a little restaurant (that barely looked open) along the road. Once again, they were out of gulab jamun (it is a difficult dessert to make, I think, and needs to be kept hot which is why so many places do not seem to have it I guess) and once again, the Frenchman had trouble ordering black tea. The waiters during the course of this trip have appeared a little confused, always wanting to put milk and sugar in it. The major confused me, however, by ordering “sugar free” even after he was already given his presumably sugar-free tea. (I realized later that Sugar Free was the name of an artificial sweetener.)

We had listened to classic Bollywood all the way up, so it was a nice, if not surreal, change to hear classic 80s all the way back which the Sri Lankan girl, despite being born as the 80s were ending, appreciated and owned; everything from Manic Monday to Dancing With Myself. Nothing like grooving to the Safety Dance at a gas station in rural India as the sun is setting. We stopped at the Karnal Haveli restaurant on the way back (which was closed last time we were here) for dinner but I was half asleep by then. Enjoyed the lassi, though. Not the waiter touching the bread with his hands. (Seriously, food service industry!)

Shimla was a really cool place, both temperature and atmosphere. I can see why, according to my co-worker, all the richer folk in Delhi escape here as soon as the summer heat hits. (Summer vacation for kids starts at the beginning of May, apparently, so these places get even more crowded.) It almost seemed there were as many hotels as houses. I’m curious to visit other “hill stations” now…

My apartment, Part 2:

More things I like:

• Taking the trash out only involves putting the bag outside my front door. Any morning of the week.
• I can often see fireworks out my window (12th-floor view + weddings with fireworks + lots of weddings)
• 24-hour maintenance!

More things I don’t like:

• Ants. There aren’t tons and there aren’t lines of them, but they are there. Little ones in the kitchen that will get into ANY foodlike substance I leave out. Black ones in the bathroom that are pretty harmless.
• My air conditioner plays a LOUD little tune when it is turned on. Normally would not be a big deal except when there are power outages in the middle of the night. Then I get to be woken up over and over.
• Construction dust

Finally got gas stove hooked up.
This increases my menu to include omelettes and spaghetti,
not just Stuff That Can Be Put in the Rice Cooker Veggie Steamer Whether Or Not It Was Intended To.

So today, my coworker took me to the mall in Saket, which is big enough to have its own Wiki page. Fancy mall. Expensive mall. Increasingly crowded mall. We did more eating than shopping, though. Then braved the 100+ heat to take some photos.

Hanging out at the million+ sq. ft mall

The armored Buddha? Practices non-violence and violence.
And the Hard Rock Cafe guitar! (No beef in those burgers.)

The guy we were with told a story about how when he and his uncle were overseas, they had some kind of delicious, juicy meat roll they assumed was lamb. Later, he found out it was beef. But he never told his uncle!

At a DVD store (that also sold smartphones and, oddly, Barbies), I saw a whole bunch of movies that I want to see. Mainly Oscar nominees. The standard price for a new release appeared to be just under $12. Need to buy a DVD player first. I wonder what region these are?

Also stopped in a nice bookstore hoping to find a Hindi-English, English-Hindi dictionary. Only saw the latter despite that there was an English-German, German-English dictionary in the same section. I’m trying to translate “Tum hi ho,” the Hindi love song that plays in every shop, restaurant, radio station, TV music show, everywhere, all the time right now. Yes, I found translations online. And yes, I tried Google Translate. But the translations only translate a line at a time (and are not necessarily consistent with each other). And Google seems confused when I input Hindi.

Then, my favorite part…

Just minutes – minutes – after I was thinking to myself, “I wonder if Delhi has a Haagen Dazs,” one appeared! I had to go. It was about the Fanciest Haagen Dazs Ever with restaurant-style seating, waiters, and an elaborate – and artistic – menu that included a fondue dish. It was also extremely expensive.

Something called the “chocoholic”? Don’t mind if I do. Nomnomnom.

Yum. And the two-and-a-half scoops or so cost ten bucks! Sheesh! Worth it, though. The people I was with tried really hard to pay for it, even though they didn’t have any. I only managed to put my 500-rupee bill in the waiter’s hand after the credit card didn’t swipe properly.

After our mall excursion, we drove by this place where the sign said “Old Fort” and they had a lake you could rent a paddle boat. Lots of non-Western tourists were there. I got more than a few glances.

We were just coming upon the end of the day, though, and there were about fifty people in front of us in line. And I was surprised to find out my co-worker “didn’t like crowds.” I thought anyone who grew up in urban India would almost be more comfortable in a crowd. I guess not! We decided to skip the boat ride, even if we could have made it. Quite crowded for a hot Sunday. (Talking to my co-workers the next day, most of them stayed at home in the cool air conditioning watching movies, rather that then venture out into the weekend heat.) Glad the metro has air conditioning.

Can’t believe what I saw in my bedroom tonight!

In other news, I’ve decided to attempt to get Broadband internet since my data card (USB modem with 3G) likes to stop working whenever I’m Skypeing with someone.

So I signed up on Airtel’s website. They said I would be contacted in 48 hours. Today (which was within 48 hours) I was contacted by someone from a Collection Agency which sounds ominous but apparently gathers the required documents. The man on the phone from Shellex, who had decent English and was very curt and businesslike, said to “mail” them to him. And, again, he meant “email”. Lucky my work has a scanner.

I’m hoping to avoid missing work for the install. Or much work. We shall see…

Three folks from the US office are visiting work this week, which has been a blast. It is fun to introduce people to things I didn’t realize I had been taking for granted. And it is a good excuse to eat out!

We (the whole entire team) went out to happy hour last night at Spice Mall. When I ordered rum and coke, the waiter brought out a can of Pepsi and asked if I wanted coke instead. Um, yes. So he brought some in one of those single-serving wine carafes. And, as with other times I’ve been served cocktails in India, he mixed the drink in front of me (ostensibly so I could confirm the amount of alcohol contained within? When they bring beer bottles out, they have the consumer confirm the adequately-chilled temperature with their hand before opening and serving.)

You know, that other Captain: Morgon

I had to suppress, again, my non-filtered-water-ice phobia. Buddy, who is quick to assure me that most restaurants use ice made from filtered water, is amused by my paranoia. I was too sleepy to dance much (yep, this sports bar has a dance floor and yes, it plays Gangnam Style), but I enjoyed the very skilled (and very physically close) dancing of my male companions. One of the new guys with glasses was quite the dancing sensation. Another told us how his brother had actually studied with a famous choreographer in Bollywood. Men take dancing very seriously here.

When I got back, after 11pm, the power was out. At first, I was like, “glad that didn’t happen in the elevator!” But then it did not come back on. A half hour passed. I was like, “is this a REAL power outage?” But the lights in the hall were on.

I was glad I have windows in three directions looking out to lit buildings. It was enough light to brush my teeth by. And take a shower. I hopped in when I was discovering just how HOT my apartment is when there is no air conditioning, not even air movement.

Incidentally, it has gotten so hot out, that I don’t really need to heat my water any longer before my shower. The water is not cold. On an unrelated note, it also smells like sulfur sometimes.

My apartment was miserably hot. I discovered after waking up at 1am (not the first Too Hot awakening) that the ice cubes in my freezer had melted, but that the cool water felt good sprinkled on my (let’s face it) mostly nude body.

The nude breaker box

I messed with the switches in my breaker box wtih a flashlight, but they all looked in place. I then shut off every single switch in my apartment except for the fridge and the ceiling fan in case I was overloading the system (and because the power blips happening nonstop overnight made my electricity turn on for half a second and I’ve mentioned the little tune the A/C plays every time it turns on, haven’t I.)

I even turned off the mystery switch. No idea what the icon means.

I’m grateful I remembered at the last second that, if the electricity is off then my RO (reverse osmosis water filter) is off too. But I have several backup bottles of water.

I did manage to fall asleep a few times, hot and sweaty, and imagining the majority of the population sleeping in the same heat, but probably with more clothing. Especially all the construction workers who I am pretty sure sleep in the temporary shacks on the street below my flat. When I woke up at 5:30 (sun was up, too hot to fall asleep again), I noticed that a few of the ants that like to find foodstuffs in my kitchen had apparently mistaken me for edible goods. Gross. Sheets went in the wash and I took another shower.

Come on, eat those things!

I was determined to find out whether this had only happened to me (and I should call maintenance) or everyone (and I should just wait it out.) Luckily, my neighbor was up at about 6am and I asked her,

“Did the power go out last night?”
She said yes and went on about how because the weather is so hot, the circuits or whatever overheat, which I’d read about. Then she said it would probably be back that evening.
“Oh well,” I was thinking, bummed about the open milk and possibly juice I’d have to toss.
Then she added, “and it will stop using the power backup.”
“But that backup is out too, right? I have no power.”
She said, “Oh. You should have power. You should always have power.” She walked over to confirm that my light switches did, in fact, do nothing.

This makes me wonder what she thought I was asking. The power goes out almost every day (though the backup had always kicked in before). Did she think I’d never noticed?

Then she suggested it was off because my prepaid maintenance balance had run negative. I thought that was extremely unlikely, as I just checked it last weekend. When I moved in a month ago, I had put 5000 rupees in ($100) and last weekend it was still just under 3000 so I figured I had nothing to worry about for another month. Even my neighbor said it was only about 2000-4000 a month (and, I don’t leave my A/C on when I’m out.)

Still, I went down to the maintenance office (thank God someone was there who could check) and he told me my balance was -900. Mind boggles at how this is possible. I refilled it on the spot.

I am amused by this pull tab.
This has nothing to do with the rest of the post.

I went back up and, sure enough, there was my electricity. My landlord (who failed to inform me that the balance was negative, but informed me within minutes that I had refilled it since he gets a message every time) suggested I should go get the full statement to see what happened.

But I know what happened. I have the electric bill curse.

Everywhere I live, no matter what I do, how frugal I am, I get Giant Utility Bills. I once spent half an hour on the phone (over a decade back now) with a patient man from the electric company as I ranted, asking why the old couple in the mirror-image duplex had a lower bill than I even though I had toughed it out and barely used the heater that month. (My only guess later was the hot water heater.) Then there was the time in Japan where they were so shocked by how expensive my bill was, they actually sent some people over to investigate if something was wrong with my meter. It wasn’t. I was just using a lot of juice for comfort in a house with no insulation.

Seriously?

All in all, I’m actually glad for the uncomfortably hot experience. I wanted to see what it was like to sleep in the ambient temperature. But I would never be able to have that discipline while sleep deprived so it took an unnecessary power outage. (I also want to try a Ramadan-style dawn-to-dusk fast sometime just to see what it is like. But I don’t tend to do well on low blood sugar…)

On a side note, either Baby Guido loves to explore. Or he has some siblings…

The power outages are happening more often now that we’re topping 100 every day, as I heard they would. There were at least three during a meeting at work today and one at home just now. But because my work has backup power (including an UPS – uninterrupted power supply – for our workstations) and with the backup in my apartment complex and the fact that the internet connection persists, it’s no big deal. (You know, unless I don’t check on my utility balance.) In fact, for privileged people such as myself the biggest problem with a power outage is if you are watching a movie, the cable resets to the default channel when it comes back on a minute later. #firstworldproblems

However, the “water outage” was a new thing this last week. I don’t know what else to call it. It was like someone shut off the water for a few minutes. I would have thought it was intended except that it happened again, in the late evening. Less than 10 minutes. Very odd. Perhaps I will go back to “bucket showers.” (i.e. filling a bucket ahead of time and pouring water over my head with a large cup.) This way, I know I will have sufficient water to finish my shower before I start. It also gets the soap out better.

One of the visitors from the U.S. office asked me what the hardest thing about living in India was. And I found I had trouble answering that question. The most annoying thing at work I’ve already complained about: that it seems almost every person has their cell phones turned up to the highest volume, set to annoying rings, and gets called all the time. Very distracting. Other than that, it is a pretty spiffy office!

I ended up saying “miscommunication,” which is pretty broad. On one hand, it is indeed frustrating when my maid has to ask me for a glass of water six times, especially for her. I should have remembered paani means water. And giving simple directions to taxi, auto, and rickshaw drivers becomes that much more complicated. And trying to understand whether the call I received is a junk call (today’s was from a man from the company that sold me my microwave who really wanted me to come to his cooking class in the middle of the day) or someone who needs to legitimately talk to me but even then, I only get about 80%, which is agonizingly not quite enough. Even sometimes at work, surrounded by fluent speakers, they don’t always understand me (but don’t admit it. I find out when they ask me something I just finished saying.)

But miscommunication isn’t what makes me the most frustrated. An example of something that regularly makes me frustrated happened today.

I was standing at the counter, ready to order lunch, waiting for the person ahead of me to order, then waiting until the guy taking the orders was ready (i.e. looked up or made eye contact.) But while the guy was still clearly busy counting money, someone next to me shouted out their order and held out their cash, ordering for himself and the guy next to him. I gave him a look, but he didn’t notice. The guy took the order and cash and, before he could even pass on the order to anyone, both a woman on my left and a man on my right said their orders, holding out their 100-rupee bills over the counter. Now, it wasn’t all that crowded of a place, it was pretty much just those guys, me, and the other woman. I had very obviously been there before anyone else. I actually spread my hands out, blocking them and said, “No, I’d like to order next please, I’ve been waiting a while.” No one had any problem with that. The guy taking orders seemed amused. And he took my order next.

The irony here is that I end up being rude later because I’m trying not to be rude. If I would just join in the (what I think of as rude) move to the front, say my order loudly and hold my money out whether or not anyone is before me and whether or not the clerk is ready to take my order, then everyone would probably be happy. I need to have the same level of “counter aggression.” It’s not actual aggression. Definitely not. It’s just how you order. (Even on the roads, it seems like people are constantly cutting each other off, but it’s not road rage, more like a controlled simmer if that.)

(Filler photo. Well, yeah, they’re all filler photos.)

But I’m really bad at it. Worse, I get all riled up by it. Like when I’m hanging back with my shopping basket waiting for one of the two cashiers to open up. Never fail, someone looks at me and then stands in line behind the cashier I’m further from (hedging their bets, and I silently grumble, hoping that one doesn’t open up first.) Then someone might sneak off to the side of my cashier with a quick purchase. Then I get irritated and make a point of standing ridiculously close (to me) to the person in line. Again, I’m the problem here, but politeness is ingrained to a fault. Also, my personal space sphere is way too wide. I think being a woman is all that saves me from being shoved forward to close the agonizingly large gap I’ve left in front of me. And I think it is also that I’m not from the big city. There is a general sense of “hurry, hurry, no time to waste” here, especially in the metro, that I just don’t have by default.

I think some people, when asked what some of the hard things are about living in India, might say “pollution” which I guess is bad, but I don’t notice it a lot, or “traffic”, which I generally avoid by living close to work and being on an early schedule. The honking I’ve totally adjusted to. “Poverty” is a big one, but even though I do see it and think about it a lot more now than I used to, it isn’t something that riles me up (maybe because I feel helpless to change it.) And the begging is the worst at tourist sites, so a visitor here might feel the brunt of it, but I’m not solicited by beggars on a regular basis, so it doesn’t top my list. “Hygiene” gets me. Things are not as clean as they can be. I actually felt a burst of happiness upon seeing the guy who was serving me a sandwich USE PLASTIC GLOVES. (And I mean, plastic gloves that he took off to handle money, then put back on to handle food. Yay for Cafe Coffee Day.) My co-worker got out-of-work-for-three-days ill just from food so it can happen to natives, too. Possibly “bureaucracy”… after I’ve gotten my broadband, after I’ve done my taxes, then I might have a different opinion, but so far, meh. “Mosquitoes.” This might be a close second. I’ve never felt murderous rage except in the presence of a possibly-disease-carrying mosquito, blood-sucking evil vampires from hell that all need to be KILLED KILLED KILLED.

India’s answer to Starbucks

Actually, because it hasn’t rained in ages, I haven’t seen a mosquito in quite a while. I’m worried about when the wet weather comes.

But, yeah. People cutting in front of me is one of the biggest daily things that drive me crazy. (That and a lack of sidewalks.)

Best thing about living in India? The number one thing has to be the inclusiveness. Two years I lived in Japan. The people I worked with were great, helpful, kind, just awesome people. But I never got IN. I was always the outsider and always would be. But from day one here, even though I appear just as out of place as I did in Japan, I feel included, part of the team, one of the guys. The only time my “guest” status kicks in is when the bill comes. No one wants to let me pay for anything because I’m the guest. (Or maybe because I’m a woman? Or maybe because they are the ones that asked and it is a cultural thing to pay when you are the invitee? Only I am lame about inviting people anywhere so will I ever get to pay anyone back?)

Also, there is pretty good service everywhere (because there are so many workers) and people are polite. I think I’m called “madam” (or the cute “aunty”) in an average week more than in my entire U.S. experience combined. I also love than I can catch an auto virtually anywhere, though that is a city thing. Also, standing out – more like, standing out as a rich person – does have perks. I get noticed. I get served.

Also, the beat-filled Bollywood music that I hear everywhere (and the fact that everyone seems to know, and can dance along to, the songs.) The urban cow herds. Having lots of really unique places to visit in a small radius. All the gorgeous clothes the women wear.

And Holi. The fact that it exists. That is unmatched in the U.S.

Finally of course. The food. All the different kinds of fried bread alone. And even at a place called “The Great Kebab Factory” you will have no problem as a vegetarian. In fact, I was waiting for the waiter to serve me some of the yummy stuff my “pure-veg” co-worker was getting because I can only eat so much chicken. My pure-veg co-worker called them back so I could try some fried pineapple too. Word to the wise: Chinese food is much spicier out here. Good, but spicy.

(totally stole this image)

We were driving through the city during rush hour and my Indian co-worker was actually dissing India a bit, wondering why people couldn’t just follow the rules when they drive. I actually felt offended that he was criticizing the wonderfully chaotic cooperativeness of the traffic. Then again, I don’t have to drive in it.

In other news, I was eventually successful in seeing some movies. Saw Star Trek: Into Darkness 3D and Iron Man 3. Both were lots of fun. Both were less than $5. Both had reserved seating that, despite my initial trepidation, I’ve come to appreciate (since the last thing I want to do is fight over seats.) And both, oddly, had intermissions. The movie just… stopped, in the middle, like it was broken, about halfway through.

By the second week of June, I’ll be back on my own again. Chris, Pete, and all our Colorado guests will be home.