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.