So here I am, halfway through my time in Delhi.

What do I miss from home?

The spinach and steak salad at Murphys. Driving to my friend’s house, even after dark. Drinking tap water. Reliable sidewalks.

What will I miss come December?

All the new wonderful people I’ve met. Getting cheap transportation anywhere to see unique places. The garlic naan. Bollywood music.

Toiletries Recap
How long this stuff lasted comparatively, graphed up my bathroom wall
Legend: starting from the second tile up, a tile = a month

The Knock-on-Wood Department presents: bugs. Although I keep expecting big, nasty bugs to show up in my apartment, I haven’t seen too much yet, especially as compared to the giant spiders, beetles, and poisonous centipedes I shared my house with in rural Japan. The biggest ones I’ve spotted have been bigger than flies, but smaller than wasps and easily catchable with a tissue, which is one of my main Criteria for Bug Inconvenience.

(Lizards don’t count.)

I suspect the two main reasons I have not seen much is because 1. it is not humid year-round here and 2. my apartment complex applies pesticide. Being pretty high up may help as well.

I still have purchased bug spray with a picture of a cockroach on it. Just in case…

What is this thing, anyway?

Saturday morning, my bank is open from 9:30 to 1:30. (It actually posts its hours online! Posting business hours seems to be a rare phenomenon here.) It’s the only conceivable time for me to go and sort out getting a new debit card, so I went.

I’d never been inside a bank in India before. It was not as fancy as I expected. It resembled the registration office for getting a license plate back home. There were lots of desks with signs over them with different acronyms. One desk’s sign said “May I help you” as one of three options and lots of them referred to A/C. As the bank had no A/C, I think it means “account”. There were also some couches to wait on in the center. Along the back were two long lines – the sign just said “cash” – but otherwise, it did not seem packed, even though most every seat was taken. I walked around, conspicuously confused, reading all the signs, trying to guess which desk I should try. There did not seem to be any numbers to take. An un-uniformed guy helpfully pointed me to a desk I would not have guessed. When the person in front of me finished at that desk, I explained my situation. (“I’m a complete idiot…”)

The guy gave me an application to fill out for a new debit card (shouldn’t they have this information on file already?) and bring it to the May I Help You desk. After a bit of waiting, the woman behind that desk took my application and I found out it would take 7-10 days to get a new card. So I asked where I could get cash (as I am down to my last 1000 rupees and remembered too late that I received a new debit card in the States and so cannot actually get cash anymore!) She pointed me inevitably to the long line in the back.

The Amazing Flying Guido!

So I waited there. And waited. When I got to the front of the cash counter, the man said I could not withdraw cash from my account at the cash counter. (Seriously, what else is this line for?) He pointed me toward yet another desk where the sign said “Forex”. The same un-uniformed man told me to sit on the couch and wait (instead of standing in the area of the desk), but I did not want to lose my place ‘in line’ because how else would anyone know that I was next? Finally, I conceded and sat on the couch. The guy next to me said hello and I realized it was the young man who works at Needs who always says hello to me. (His shirt actually said Needs on it, so I guess clerks wear uniforms. Sometimes.) He asked me again if I was single. I asked him if he worked every single day. (Yes to both questions.) Then he went back to his cell phone.

I did get helped in order, somehow. There was some discussion between her and the woman at the desk next to her. And it also seemed like they helped other people in the meantime. Then again, I felt like I had been helped while other people were waiting, too, which leads me to believe Indians just work better when they are multitasking.

The woman finally said, “We can certainly find a way to get you cash but it would be much faster if you had your checkbook.”

Some people take photos of babies
Some people take photos of pets
I take photos of any reptiles that happen to wander into my apartment

My checkbook? Um, okay. So I walked back to my apartment (luckily, just across the street… granted, it is a challenging street to cross) through the increasingly hot and humid weather to dig through my Three Places I Put Important Crap to see if I could find my welcome envelope from the bank. Found it, whew, and found my checkbook that I had never opened, double whew. Ex, why, zee. So I walked back to the bank. And waited on the same couch. Then, the woman at the desk called me over and made out one of my checks to “Self”. I signed the front once and the back twice. A little while later, I got the text message that the amount I had asked for had been deducted from my account. I looked around, wondering where it had been deducted from. A few minutes later, someone walked over with a stack of bills.

I made a point of paying my maintenance bill before it snuck down below 0 again. (The man behind the desk seemed surprised the balance was positive this time. Hey I’m thinking ahead!)

Kathryn scored a driver from the Radisson (driving the most comfortable van ever) to take us into Delhi, though he seemed more interested in being our tour guide then taking us where we wanted to go. But we managed to, with a little persistence, get where we wanted.

We went to Jama Masjid (hereafter called the Money-Grubbing Mosque) where some guy started giving us a tour randomly. We both thought it was part of the Radisson driver’s deal until he wanted to charge us $10 at the end. I was sort of disappointed in the driver for not chasing him off (or paying him). What good is he otherwise? I finally gave the random dude $4. I mean, the information in the tour wasn’t bad, it was just unsolicited.

Incidentally, Ramadan starts soon. One of my Muslim co-workers will abstain from food or drink (i.e. lunch with the team) from dawn to dusk during the whole month. This impresses me enormously. Summertime Ramadan must be particularly brutal with long, hot days. (Next year, it will be in June, the worst, then in May the following year, also difficult.) I think the times I’ve gone without food for that long can be counted on one hand and most of that when I was ill or traveling. But I’ve never gone that long without water.

After our tour, the Radisson guide was eager to go, but we were not stopping before the best part! The minaret! It was more crowded than last time (more tight squeezes in the spiral stone stairway) but still a great view. And Kathryn got her picture taken by random strangers a lot. Welcome to India.

View of the Fort from the Minaret

View of the Square
(The white lines are lengths of cloth to walk on for those who did not buy the slippers.)

This time the stone was Very Hot, so the 100-rupee slippers were almost a necessity. (I still have the ones from last time, I use them in my apartment.) They made us wear the robe things again and it, again, covered up nothing that I was not already covering, but at least it matched my outfit this time! Though the robe guy actually wanted us to give him a tip when we got back! What for? For making us put on unnecessary clothing in hot weather? Does he expect me to believe he launders them or something?

Though, I have to admit, the required extra clothing is not (completely) sexist. The white dude in front of us wearing shorts had to put one around his waist too.

Looking back toward Noida
(we thought we could see Akshardham temple in the distance)

As we were exiting, some old guy wanted a tip for “watching our shoes” just like last time I was here. The driver started talking to him in Hindi, so I thought he would chase him off, but no, he wanted us to pay him (even though my shoes were not in the location I left them.) Radisson guy is definitely not on our side. However, he did help us get an extremely awesome bicycle rickshaw tour through Chandi Chowk. The dude was bicycling us uphill and everything through all the tiny little side streets of awesomeness. We saw the jewelry section, the sari and fabric area and a hint of the electronic zone. Loved it! (Though the Radisson guy was trying to take credit for us not getting pickpocketed because his presence was a deterrent. Uh, yeah.)

The bicycle rickshaw driver, who must have been exhausted in the heat and humidity still cracked a joke or two. When we drove by the Haldiram’s, he pointed and said, “Indian McDonald’s”, heh.

Despite that we were overcharged for the rickshaw tour, I still feel bad for the bicycle dudes in general, so I gave him the astonishing $30 he asked for. After that, the driver misunderstood our request for a place to eat that was “good and cheap” and took us to a “good and expensive” place instead near Connaught Place called “Ardor”. Still, good is good – a very yummy dinner of paneer makhni, dal, and garlic naan followed.

I went to bed early and was woken up by the doorbell, getting tangled up in my mosquito net trying to get up and answer it. It was the “doods”, as I call them, the guys who come around selling milk (milk in Hindi is dood). I have never bought milk from them before and probably never will because I’m way too lazy to boil, so DON’T RING MY BELL AT 8:00 ON A SUNDAY.

I got back into bed, but the doorbell rang again at 8:15am. It was my maid! My maid who doesn’t come on Sunday, has stopped coming on Saturday, and had not, in fact, come all week! Yet there she was. I gave up on going back to bed (especially as I had a stack of money sitting out from the bank) and just got up for the day instead. My doorbell rang again at 9:30am. It was the gas guy! I guess, after two and a half months, maybe they want to finally charge me for gas. With all the reputed focus on money, it is surprising to me how long it takes people (like the gas guy, my taxi driver, my landlord, my work) to ask me for the money I owe.

I finally had a “Thums Up”, India’s answer to Coke
It tastes like Coke with some Pepsi poured in, made with artificial flavoring instead of natural flavoring.

I have had “All Star” stuck in my head for a week. Catchy, that. Now you have it stuck in your head, too.

Headline on July 9th:
Little rain, but monsoon is very much in Delhi

Headline on July 10th:
Heaviest rain in 4 years; traffic pain across Delhi

I had been wondering why there was no rain for three weeks straight during “monsoon” season, but the first article explained it:

Packing an umbrella to work on the 10th ended up being a really good idea! I ended up waiting for my taxi for about 10 minutes in the POURING RAIN. Even with the umbrella, my pants and shoes were soaked and muddy by the end.

It rained so hard, my camera fogged up!

My taxi was very late. Once inside and on my way home through stop-and-go rush-hour traffic, I watched all the people on bicycles and on motorbikes. It looked absolutely miserable. I saw one man on a bicycle who had his cargo covered in plastic, but he was completely soaked through as he pedaled through the puddles. Lots of people have motorcycles (and many take multiple passengers) because it is cheaper. But there is one major drawback to that mode of transportation.

Also, AWESOME lightening storm. Just incredible. Streaks across the purple sky, constantly.

The monsoon rain dumped a bucket on Delhi, then was gone, leaving cool, fresh air. I even opened my balcony door, which I usually don’t because of the construction dust and heat. Though I suspect this means flooding in the high country.

In other news, I finally got my “Form 16” with three weeks to go before the income tax filing deadline. Now I get to figure out how to file taxes in India.

Weekend Road Trip Time!

Destination: Neemrana Fort-Palace

The evening before we departed, the major invited us out to a pre-wedding celebratory evening. I’m not sure what the celebration was called. It was not the wedding itself, nor the engagement or ring ceremony, but it was an excuse to get all dressed up again! (Edit: I believe this is called “The Kitty Party”) I still want to try wearing a sari at some point, but this was too short of notice, so I wore my usual plus a bindi, which the major’s wife had a whole sticker sheet of.

All Dressed Up!

This celebration involved (more so than other celebrations) a priest-type figure with a microphone, chanting-musical-prayer, and dancing women. “The husbands are invited, too,” the major clarified, but this was something special for the ladies, apparently. This was definitely the most cultural experience I’ve had at a wedding, thanks to the amazing inclusiveness of the party. We took off our shoes and were pulled into the dancing circle of women in the middle, all of whom seemed to be having a great time. We often did one dance where we all lifted our feet to the middle and sort of hop-danced around our painted toenails. I had a blast. So did the people with video cameras filming the foreign women.

We kept putting back on our shoes at the urging of the major, but then being pulled again into the festivities in the center of the floor which was a no-shoe zone. At one point, we both got a garland of fragrant flowers around our neck. The groom thanked us personally for coming and I thanked him for including us, two complete strangers, in the intimate festivities. We also enjoyed some food and got Haldiram’s parting sweets called, I found out from my co-worker later, motichoor ladoos.

The motichoor ladoos made for a nice pre-breakfast snack before our 6:30am departure.

We picked up various people along the way in Delhi until the Innova was riding full capacity at 7 + driver. It was my first time in Gurgaon, a southwest Delhi suburb similar to Noida. Just when the cityscape was transforming into a grass-and-occasional-tree-scape, we stopped at Haldiram’s for breakfast.

Road Trip Group and Breakfast at Haldiram’s

Unlike the Rishikesh highway Haldiram’s, this one was almost empty and so was a great place to relax and use the facilities. I also discovered, looking at a world map, that Haldiram’s has several locations in the U.S.! I never knew. Next time I’m in Vegas, will have to check it out. I wonder if they have chole bature (poofy bread + spicy garbanzo bean curry) and motichoor ladoo (sweet balls of yum) at that branch?

Neemrana is halfway to Jaipur, so the trip only took a couple hours once we were out of the city. We turned off the highway (getting directions from random people on the side of the road like you commonly do here), rode through a rural town, then up a hill, then there we were! Out of the air-conditioned van and into the heat of beautiful Neemrana Fort Palace.

At the entrance, saying bye to the driver for two days
(no idea where the driver stayed, but I bet Neemrana is the kind of place that has driver accommodation)

We were a bit early for check-in, but they were able to let us into one of our allotted rooms. So we all decided to change into our bathing suits (which I had impulsively packed at the last minute, whew) and head to the pool!

Swimming in a fort!

There are, unbelievably, two pools and we got a bit lost, wandering around looking for it (this place is perfect for walking aimlessly in) but eventually found the upper “adult” pool that I could just reach the bottom of.

Swimming, swimming, swimming

Although I’m not sure if the pool was heated, the sun heated it well enough that the temperature of the water actually felt a little on the warm side after swimming around in it a bit.

It was fairy-tale lovely and you couldn’t beat the view. I bet it would be even better at night, except there was a rule forbidding that due to the chemicals they add then.

I’m so artsy, photographing my sandals in the foreground.

Belatedly realizing that I had forgot to put on sunscreen, I tried to stay in the shady corner of the pool, but was too late. My cheeks were a nice shade of pink later that afternoon.

We ran into the other three members of our group, who had come on their own, and went down to lunch at the fort restaurant. It was a delicious buffet with quite a variety. The longer I’m here, the more it makes sense that Indian restaurants back home often are served buffet style. Not only is (North) Indian food, which is a lot of bread and curries, amenable to it, it is the standard way to feed a group of people here.

Because we had last-minute cancellations, we all got our own room instead of twin sharing. I had to pick the right fork at several stairwells to get to my door, so did my best to memorize the location when the hotel dude showed me where it was. I managed to never get lost, somehow. Each room has a name instead of a number and most end in the word “mahal” which you all have heard before. Turns out, it means “palace”. My room was the Chandan Mahal and I just looked it up on Google right now to double check the name and my room has its own page!

The photos on that page are nicer, but I took a bunch of my own pictures anyway.

Walking in and checking it out

I got two beds! It was hard to choose which one to use. Tough problems.

Because these are the photos I’d want to see

This is not, technically, a star-rated hotel. It is called a “non-hotel” actually. I was a little concerned about the cleanliness, but all was well. This was my second-cleanest India hotel experience, just under the 5-star, so good stuff! In order from worst to best, I put it at Inderlok (Rishikesh), Rainbow Jungle Camp (Rishikesh, though this is technically a campsite, so quite clean by those standards), The Meadows (Aurangabad), Bridge View (Shimla), Cabana (Delhi, my first long-term hotel), Neemrana Fort (here!), Country Inn (Jaipur)

I saw three other people’s rooms while I was here. One was smaller, one was larger, and one was freakin’ palatial. Palatial room doubled as our drinking room.

(It should be noted, though, that the dude who got the palatial room only got it because the original room he was assigned had lots of little Neemrana Fort Worms in it because of the moisture (?) so they moved him. Bonus points for moving him due to worms. Not bonus point for worms. I only saw one worm in my room, though. Pretty sure the birds are eating them. See next page for early bird.)

I liked that the room did not have a TV. Made it feel more fort-like. My appreciation of authenticity, however, stopped at the air conditioner. Could. Not. Have. Survived. Without. Air. Conditioner.

Step 1: cut a hole in the fort wall
Step 2: put in an air conditioning unit

With retro-fitted plumbing, electricity, and air conditioning, we were probably more comfortable than the kings and queens that actually lived here in the 15th century.

And check out the view from outside my room!

Now it was time for some sweaty fort wandering. I gave up on the idea that I would not be dripping and soaked, knowing that I had a shower coming at the end of the day, so I had a lot of fun walking up and down stairs, through hallways and mystery tunnels, walkways on the sides of towers, around courtyards, through empty rooms, and down a hanging garden.

And now it is time to get on a camel.

We paid 200 rupees ($4) a person for our 45-minute ride outside the fort, led by two friendly Camel Lords (or whatever they are called).

The camel sits for you when it is time to get on, which makes getting on a camel easier than, say, getting up on a horse. Until the part where the camel stands back up. Whoa! Tilt forward! Tilt back!

Camel standing. The look on my face says it all

I’m so clever with the shadow. Actually, the camel shadow shot was Kathryn’s idea

View from top of camel and back to the fort

It was blazingly hot, uncomfortably bumpy, and a thoroughly enjoyable ride down a dirt trail that led away from the fort, through some farmland (where I waved at a farm girl who waved back), then continued onto a rural road…

…where apparently, we were a fascinating sight! The tractors and pick-ups that passed were full of people and every single one of them was staring at us like they’d never seen two white people on a camel before.

This one group even pulled over and wanted us to stop so they could take our photo. We felt like celebrities. Sweaty celebrities.

The Paparazzi

Our camels stopped and I realized we were at another Neemrana destination, the Neemrana Stepwell. A stepwell is sort of what it sounds like… a giant well that stores rainwater with steps leading down. This one has an over-100-year history. And, also, apparently, a Geocache.

A half dozen guys on trucks and motorcycles stopped shortly after we did, which made us a little nervous. Maybe they had never seen such an odd group of girls before? (In all, we were two Americans, two younger Indians, and one Japanese.) Or maybe it was the standard Camel Drops Funny-Looking People Off At Stepwell Tour time of the day.

So, this dude shows up on a motorcycle…

A random young guy who had gotten off a motorcycle a minute earlier started talking to us, telling us about the stepwell. And I was like, “oh great, here’s another unsolicited tour guide,” but then he explained he had been sent out from Neemrana Fort. His decent English was evidence of that, I suppose. I was glad enough of having a guy around, at any rate. He suggested we not climb down the nine or so stories to the bottom because of the hot weather. Thought about it. Then agreed.

But between the fact that it looked far too easy to misstep and plunge nine stories… and the number of guys loitering around the stepwell… it was sort of a creepy place and I’m glad we did not spend too long wandering around.

Neemrana Stepwell
Featuring stairs, but no railings.

At one end was a proper well that we looked through a hole to see. With a proper echo, as we demonstrated. Tried not to think about tumbling down into it.

As we rode the camels back, I saw the below sign. And thanks to Google later, learned a new meaning of Aryan.

Wiki says:
“1. Among Hindu nationalists, the Hindu/Indian people
2. Within the ideology of white supremacy, the “White race”, who are native Indo-Europeans of the Western or European branch of the Indo-European peoples.”

Do these seem mutually exclusive to anyone else? Anyway, I’m sure it is a nice facility. I mean, look at how many acronyms you can learn!

After the camels, we gathered in the palatial room to have some beverages. Unlike Rishikesh, Neemrana Fort is not dry, but we brought our own alcohol anyway. Our wine-providing French dude was not with us for this trip, so we got some vodka, gin, and several bottles of Kingfisher ale. I was mostly about the orange juice that went with the vodka. Need electrolyte replenishment.

Almost right outside the room, the “traditional Rajasthani folk dancing” started. The costumes were very elaborate. The dancing itself was pretty tame. One guy looked like he had been doing it for years. Another girl looked like it was her first week. The other two looked like they had practiced a bit more to hold a flaming pot on their heads or balance spinning bike wheels on their hands and feet. It was mildly entertaining.

The main guy made it more interesting with audience participation. He pulled Kathryn and I (and the few other women who wanted to) up to dance with him, then he went around pouring flower petals on couples and friends.

Our late dinner included, among many other things, a pasta station and homemade ice cream. I’ve generally tried to cut down on ice cream here partially because during summer season, power-outage-causing-melting seems more common, and also because I simply have not found good ice cream here (except for the Haagen Dazs). But this stuff was awesome. Neemrana Fort definitely gets a plus one for food variety and quality.

Finally, a hot shower, cool air conditioner, and lovely quiet night’s sleep!

Today’s activity: Ziplining!

I’d never been ziplining before. I highly recommend the experience.

Breakfast before the zipping included (at least) one thing of awesomeness: homemade jam! I tell you, India has no clue how to do jam. Every time I’ve tried to have jam, even imported jam, it tastes artificial, like bubble-gum flavoring. Nasty. I’ve given up on jam entirely. But this stuff was the good stuff!

After eating too much (they kept bringing around freshly-cooked stuffed parantha, couldn’t resist) we wandered around until we found the office for The Flying Fox.

We got there a bit early thinking we needed to meet at top of the hill, but we didn’t, we just needed to meet in the local fort office. So we waited until our guide and the rest of the people assigned in our group showed up. And looked at pretty birds in the meantime.

The early bird gets the fort worm

Finally, they put a harness on us. I got an extra harness for my shoulders for some reason. Only me and one other person. No explanation, but no complaints. I have Deep Trust in harnesses.

Getting equipped…

They had a lot of rules, some of which were reasonable, and some of which were ridiculous. Ridiculous ones being:

1. That I could not wear my sandals. I mean, I would get prohibiting flip-flops. Flip-flops would be unwise on a hike followed by a zip-line. But these sandals have survived river rafting! They will not fall off my feet. And they were infinitely better for hiking than the bowling shoe-like shoes that did not quite fit that they made me wear (having no socks.) At least they had shoes to fit their rules! Because I brought no others.
   
2. No bags allowed up, even little ones, even with long shoulder straps. At first, I was like, “okay, I get it, it could get tangled in the harness”, but then they gave a bunch of us shoulder bags with a bottle of water in it. So… why is that shoulder bag okay? Can’t we use that one to hold our money/passport/water/phone/camera? we had to leave our belongings in their office. At least they did not dare attempt to say we could not bring our cameras…
3. We couldn’t bring our own water (though they did provide ample water in the office). And they didn’t give all of us a bottle of water for some reason… me and another person kept having to borrow drinks from others. And, boy did we need those drinks.

Finally, we got our safety demo and began!

To zip down…
we first have to hike up!

Our guide was everything you would want a ziplining tour guide to be: confident, energetic, competent, having good English, and trying to keep the atmosphere light with bad jokes. I swear I heard a New Zealand accent mixed in with the Indian, which would have completed the profile. (He said later that a lot of people told him he had an American accent.) His helper was quiet.

At the end of the steep, uphill hike up the mountain (pant) we rested under the shelter, re-hydrating. Then we had the chance to practice on a zipline set up at the top before heading out on the real thing.

Yeah, we were nervous. I mean, just a wire and a harness over a bunch of trees below. Yikes. Luckily, the drop was not too severe on the first line. But it was still down there. And that was a long string of wire floating through the sky there. You could barely see the other side, if at all.

There were five ziplines in all, all several hundred meters long, so I was figuring that by the end, scared or not, one would probably get used to it! I went second to last, so I got to watch – and photograph – all the people ahead of me.

The first zipline

Whee!

It was so fun!! Floating smoothly through the air, a wonderful breeze cooling you down, and a stunning view. I loved it!

The sound you made as you ziplined, let me rephrase, that sound you heard other people make since I don’t recall hearing anything when I was on the line, sounded sort of mechanical like a high-pitched motorcycle starting up. Zooooownnn.

Geared up to go!

Ziplining!

I had far more control over my speed than I would have imagined. If you “sat” in a posture as if you were in a chair, you might not have enough speed to make it to the end (though we learned proper ways to pull ourselves to the end if we stopped in the middle) though if you tucked your knees in good, you could get going fast. Too fast coming in, and the helper at the other end would sign a big “X” at you to slow down. You could slow by straightening your posture or by placing the palm of your glove on the line behind you. Though one person on our tour grabbed the wire little too aggressively and burned a hole through the glove.

The place we got on one of our final lines had an incredible view down to the fort.

Zip, zip, zip, zip, zip, each one a little different, but all fun. Then we were back where we started! Shortly after we all started walking back down to the office, we saw a monkey.

Whew.

Otherwise, if I had not seen it, this would have been my first non-monkey Indian excursion. I wasn’t fast enough to take a photo, though.

We spent a bit more time at the fort afterward, then checked out of all our rooms, handing over our keys to waiting guests, except the palatial one where we drank more juice and ate mangoes and bananas.

More fort shots:

This place was just amazing. The sunset the previous night gave it some good light, too.

This is acutally the Lower Pool

And some doors, to go with my Jaipur doors:

And don’t forget the fort facilities…

On our drive back we stopped at…

You guessed it. Haldiram’s! A different Haldiram’s, though. They’re everywhere. I got myself a lassi and we enjoyed the consistent yumminess of Haldiram’s fare.

We dropped everyone off and ourselves were dropped off at the metro. It was another good hour and a half ride on the blue line until we reached Sector 18 (with the help of my regular cab driver) then my place. It felt like we left the fort early, but didn’t get back until after sunset, so it was all good.

Yay weekend road trip!

So, despite a false start, those may have been the easiest taxes ever? We shall see. I filled out the efiling form on https://incometaxindiaefiling.gov.in/ which was at first, mind-boggling, but then, step by step, with the help of Google, a co-worker, and deduction, I figured out where to put in my numbers (from Form 16, the equivalent of a W2) and what “Ward” I lived in and all the math matched up. Down to the rupee. So I didn’t owe, nor was owed, anything by the Indian government.

That’s never happened on my taxes at home before.

The worst part was that, despite the efiling, I *still had to mail the form in* that I printed out and, worse, *it had to be sent by standard post* and not by courier. For a country whose pride and joy is NOT the postal system, I was a little surprised.

But, prepared this time with a book and experience, I braved the sweaty post office full of sweaty men (I rarely see women in here for some reason), who sort of stand in a line sometimes. I hung out vaguely around the counter number I needed with my book and a semblance of organization did eventually happen, I was surprised. I think it still took me a half hour to get served, but only two minutes to have them process my ITR (Income Tax Returns) envelope. (All four ceiling fans were working this time. But I was still dripping.)

I’m getting braver with my culinary exploration. There’s a little food court market up the street that I have never been able to work myself up to eating at. It is definitely a step up from street food, just not a significantly large enough step for me to try it on my own.

But my neighbor had given me their menu with a recommendation, and said they deliver. So I called them one evening to give them try.

But… There was no communication.

I tried to say my order, but they kept just saying “hello” when I paused to see if they understood anything I said. Whoo boy. I finally gave up. I hung up and was going to call my old standby, Cinnamon Kitchen, when they acutally called me back! I was very impressed because, after all, this was a Friday night during busy time. Not sure if I can imagine a pizza place calling you back if you got disconnected on a Friday night. So I said my order and my address and it sort of seemed like they understood. Then I waited.

Rasoi: Pure Vegetarian Foods
Yeah, I ate it.

Sure enough. Food! The cheapest food I’ve ever had delivered ever, I think. Two full meals – including the naan – for about $3, though I gave them almost $4 partially because they had no change, but partially because I was going to round up anyway for their tip.

The food itself wasn’t bad, though was not quite as awesome as Cinnamon Kitchen (which, granted, is triple the price for one meal). Most of my hesitation was just skepticism.

Incidentally… someone told me to go veg during rainy season. So I have, for the most part. And, yeah, I’m starting to crave meat.

So, I have totally caught myself doing the head bobble. Folks at home may be amused. But the head bobble is awesome! Why? It is the best way to end a meeting ever! For example, back home when we have a meeting at work, there’s sometimes kind of a quasi-awkward, “So we’re good?” “Anything else?” “All right then.” when we’re trying to wrap up a meeting. One manager even used to say “Break!” when we were done. At the end of my Monday meeting, I end it with, “Have a good week!”

But nothing beats the Indian way to end a meeting. Head-bobble, head-bobble, everyone gets up and leaves! Done! It is like telepathy. It works for lunch, too. Everyone just magically stands up at the same time to go. Head bobble for the win!

Hinglish Phrase of the Day: Mausam is awesome.

We’ve been saying that right after it rains. (The humidity before it rains suffocates you, but the cool breeze after it rains is soothing.) Mausam, which rhymes with awesome, means “weather” so now I have a new way to say “It’s nice out.”

Mausam is awesome!

My co-worker took me shopping after work on Tuesday in the street market by the Sector 18 Metro (a place I have always been a little intimidated by) called Atta Market.

Atta Market is tightly packed, full of tiny shops and even more shoppers. She led me off the main drag to a slightly larger shop to get a “suit”, which for Indian ladies means the dress, pants (tight or loose), and scarf combo. You buy mostly the fabric (with the fancy front and in the right general shape) with the intention of getting it tailored.

This is NOT where I bought my outfit.
(What with the price of, um, Chicken Fabric being so high…)

The attentive man behind the counter kept taking more and more patterned outfits off the shelves to show me. Nonstop pulling off the shelf and unfolding on the table and pulling off the shelf and unfolding on top of the previous outfit until there was a giant colorful pile of chaos on the counter. (Side note: Why are ladies clothing shops always staffed by men here? I mentioned this to an American guy once and he said, “Well, men’s clothing stores in the States always have female clerks.” Did not know that…)

I tried to make a decision faster so he would have less to re-fold later, but he did not seem concerned. Finally, after much considering, debating, and being picky about patterns, I chose two outfits – a blue one and a red one, neither with polka dots. With a little bargaining on her end, I ended up paying about 2,400 rupees total (a bit under $50… actually, $40 since the rupee has weakened). However, the tailor my co-worker knew was closed, so I will have to come back another day.

We stopped at a little accessories booth across the alley. We tried to stay out of the way of the guys carrying furniture behind us and looked at all the sparkly things in the display. My co-worker bought some nail polish and I picked up some bangles to match one of my outfits. And bindis! You could get all sorts of sizes, shapes, and, surprisingly, colors on bindi sticker sheets. Co-worker suggested I get the little, clear ones, too, so I could make a design with multiple bindis if I wanted. I’m accessory-deficient in general, so this was fun. Though I am glad my co-worker mentioned that if I got red-and-white alternating bangles, it meant I was getting married.

Bangles! Comes in groups of six. So you can Walk like an Egyptian.

File this under: Stuff you can’t buy in America
(Can you?)

Afterward, we had a light dinner at the ubiquitous Nathu’s Sweets. (I had actually thought they only had sweets, like their name suggests, but they have a full menu. And air conditioning, thank God, because wow, was it humid.)

I tried several things I had never tried before:

(totally stole this logo)

• Kesar Pista: Thumbs up. This is milk with bits of dried fruit in it. Tastes better than it sounds, but I’m glad I knew ahead of time that it was fruit because I normally would not want chunky bits in my milk. Knowledge in hand, however, I enjoyed the sweet beverage quite a bit.
• Papri Chaat: Thumbs down. It was okay, but it had this certain taste. Most Indian food I like, but there is this one flavor in several foods that I am developing a distaste for. It’s the same ingredient that’s in gol gappe I think. I can’t describe it. It has a tang to me like something went sour or has been sitting in a container too long. I made my co-worker eat it, which was good, because then I stuffed myself full of:
• Pao Bhaji: Thumbs up. This mini meal was basically buttered dinner rolls and tomato veggie curry. Can’t go wrong there. Yum, yum.

I also had one more new food experience: Poha. This gets a thumbs up, too. My co-worker could not believe I had never had this so her cook made extra and she brought it into work one morning for me to try. The texture is somewhere between oatmeal and rice (and, indeed, she said it is a common breakfast food.) According to Google, it is “flattened rice”. I like it because it is not nearly as heavy as rice can be.

So, it finally happened. I was in the elevator when the power went out. (Figured it was only a matter of time…)

It was the elevator in my apartment building. Two men carrying a sheet of glass, one blue-collar-looking worker, and a lady in a yellow sari were all in the elevator with me when the lights flickered, the digital number representing the floor went blank, and we started sort of floating down to the next level. The lights did not stay out, but it took a good minute or so for the elevator to kick back into normality and get itself to the ground floor. The guy had to press the button several times to get the door to open.

It would had been scarier if the lights had stayed out. They must have serious backup in there since the lights in my apartment usually stay out completely for the ten seconds to a minute the power is out before backup kicks in.

I also realized for the first time that there is actually a “fan” button in the elevator. Here I was wondering why sometimes the fan in the elevator was on and sometimes it was off. I had to watch a maid use it to see.