I’ve been running every morning since I got here, but I decided not to this morning. Let me explain…
Last night a group of us went to the 9.45 showing of Harry Potter. (While I was slightly disappointed that we didn’t see an Indian flick, the experience of going to see a movie in India is fun enough because it is indeed an experience: think an usher showing you to your assigned seat (or at least in theory), ancient leather seats, and my personal favorite, intermission). I ate dinner late because I was updating my blog (I came back to the house for dinner instead of getting chat or pani puri—which I still haven’t had!—because I promised Shirley, the lady of the house, that I would . You see I hadn’t actually had a proper meal at the house until then even though we’re suppose to and have available three meals, the timing just hadn’t work out. Wow, that was a long sidetrack). The group waited for me so by the time I got there and we left, we had missed the earlier 8.00pm showing (even though the theatre we went to didn’t show the movie at that time). We wanted to see the movie and the only next available showing was at 9.45 so that’s why we went so late. We passed time at Café Coffee Day, sound familiar? (While in Vizag, Coffee Day was the hangout place until we were banned after the Mumbai attacks and then people still went anyways just wearing disguises but that’s another story). I got their blue cooler which was pretty much my stable in the fall. I’m kind of disappointed in myself though because since I’ve already done the whole go-for-everything-in-your-sight mentality I wanted this go around in India to be more local: only fresh fruits drinks from street vendors; no pre-made Salwar Suits from Big Bazar, instead custom-tailored from Commercial Street (but I guess that’s a bit cliché? Commercial is the Newberry Street of Bangalore); only barfi (not barf) and gulab jamin, no cho-straws as much I love them (a white/strawberry chocolate bar; there actually not Indian, but British—because a lot of British food, particularly sweets and biscuits, aren’t available or simply don’t cross my path back home in the US, I tend to associate them more with India because that’s where I see and eat them). I suppose I could have gotten pani while everyone else sipped their western delights, but that’s life right? And then to continue the cycle, I ended up getting popcorn and a candy bar during the movie. To my credit, it was a 5 star Cadbury bar (but Indian excusive I might add, I think so at least).
Well the day actually started off with a group orientation at the home of Asha, the I to I Bangalore coordinator. Let me just say her house is grand, very colonial India. I later found out that she rents the first floor and the second floor belongs to her brother-in-law’s ex-wife, perhaps a result of a nasty divorce? We then went out to lunch as a group to an Indian buffet. A British bloke named Darrel said he wanted to go to an ATM before lunch and kind of just wandered off without telling anyone. Needless to say that he never came back. When I made it back to the house later that night he said he had gotten lost (which everyone suspected) and finally just took an auto home (which for some reason he insisted on telling me he didn’t haggle over the price for, definitely not something to be proud of in my book). The really funny or sad or ironic I guess part of my little story is that the bloke was around fifty. Of all the people to run off, it was the oldest person in the group. Yes, India most definitely is a land where everything is upside down. We found out today that Darrel is going back to the UK ASAP. I missed his shpeal because my placement runs until 6 o’clock and that’s when dinner is, but I pieced together from the rest of the group that he was expecting that his placement had made definitive arrangements for him (i.e. he wouldn’t just be fit in randomly like every other volunteer in history, he even insisted on wearing a suit and tie on his first, and only, day—mind you this is India AND he was working with children from the slums—because he believed in power dressing where in children would only respect you if you clearly mark your space from the onset, he wanted to be alpha dog I suppose). When he got a reality check, I guess he right then and there decided this wasn’t worth his time and that he wanted to go home. Did I say he was 50? But what a waist of money! And as he was leaving the dinner table he handed the other volunteer at his placement 150 rupees to get something for the children, "because they really got nothing." Well, Darell, why then couldn't you haven't given them your time?
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Monday, July 20, 2009
India Vogue
I subscribe to American Vogue back home in the US and made a habit of collecting India Vogue while here in the fall. I picked up this month’s edition while I was at the airport on Saturday and I have decided to try and blog about one article each day. 
Lily Donaldson would model this.
Deepika Padukone is on the cover of this month’s India Vogue. She is wearing a gorgeous, what appears to be blue cotton, D&G ball gown with a cascade of applicay daisies eating away at the surface. I thought it only fitting that I should start with her article…
The article is called 9 to 5 with Deepika and I think that is the first elusive statement because the Indians I have come to know usually start their day late. One of the dresses she models is a great Donna Karen crystal swirl number which I could have sworn I saw Racquel Zimmerman wearing in American Vogue, although not for a spread but rather a quick showcase or identification photo. Another dress I absolutely love is a silk jersey one-shoulder Dior gown: the snugness of the bottom contrasts with the looseness of the upper draping, while the broadening at the bottom keeps the dress level. Of course a great butt is needed for this dress. Her makeup is consistent throughout all of the photos: her lower eye lid is seemingly nude (although her almond eyes are very defined, perhaps the result of a light application of eye shadow) while thick eye liner crescendos with a flip at the far end of her eye and of course there is heavy mascara. Her lips are dark but not deep pink and contrast nicely with her pale skin as well as her dark eyes and hair, two features that ensure she is relevant in India despite her skin color. She has a little Blair Waldorf going on with her look. And let me say her attitude appears just as upper class, lady of the manner. “[A] part of her morning now goes into dealing with a myriad of responsibilities.” Well, I highly doubt she is doing any of those responsibilities herself, but is rather delegating them to others. Excuse me, I may have spoken too soon, “if the maid is on leave, ‘even washing the dishes’” can be one of her responsibilities. On a side note though, the very fact that Deepika’s flat is in suburban Mumbai, only reminds me that Mumbai is for Bollywood and Bangalore is for IT. However harsh those stereotypes maybe, each city has a distinctly different feel and I hate to say it but Bangalore has not sold me yet. Mumbai has glamour, history, and the sea. And Bangalore has… wait it has Deepika! She grew up here and so she says many of her friends whom she likes to go to a movie with still reside here. Perhaps she flies in on a private jet then?
Lily Donaldson would model this.Deepika Padukone is on the cover of this month’s India Vogue. She is wearing a gorgeous, what appears to be blue cotton, D&G ball gown with a cascade of applicay daisies eating away at the surface. I thought it only fitting that I should start with her article…
The article is called 9 to 5 with Deepika and I think that is the first elusive statement because the Indians I have come to know usually start their day late. One of the dresses she models is a great Donna Karen crystal swirl number which I could have sworn I saw Racquel Zimmerman wearing in American Vogue, although not for a spread but rather a quick showcase or identification photo. Another dress I absolutely love is a silk jersey one-shoulder Dior gown: the snugness of the bottom contrasts with the looseness of the upper draping, while the broadening at the bottom keeps the dress level. Of course a great butt is needed for this dress. Her makeup is consistent throughout all of the photos: her lower eye lid is seemingly nude (although her almond eyes are very defined, perhaps the result of a light application of eye shadow) while thick eye liner crescendos with a flip at the far end of her eye and of course there is heavy mascara. Her lips are dark but not deep pink and contrast nicely with her pale skin as well as her dark eyes and hair, two features that ensure she is relevant in India despite her skin color. She has a little Blair Waldorf going on with her look. And let me say her attitude appears just as upper class, lady of the manner. “[A] part of her morning now goes into dealing with a myriad of responsibilities.” Well, I highly doubt she is doing any of those responsibilities herself, but is rather delegating them to others. Excuse me, I may have spoken too soon, “if the maid is on leave, ‘even washing the dishes’” can be one of her responsibilities. On a side note though, the very fact that Deepika’s flat is in suburban Mumbai, only reminds me that Mumbai is for Bollywood and Bangalore is for IT. However harsh those stereotypes maybe, each city has a distinctly different feel and I hate to say it but Bangalore has not sold me yet. Mumbai has glamour, history, and the sea. And Bangalore has… wait it has Deepika! She grew up here and so she says many of her friends whom she likes to go to a movie with still reside here. Perhaps she flies in on a private jet then?
An Indian Safari
So I went to the Park on Sunday. No, not the park as in the park hotel in Vizag. A group of other I to I volunteers and I went for an Indian safari at the Bannerghatta Biological Park. To get there we took a 30 minute auto ride to a central bus station, we then traveled about 30-45 minutes by bus to find ourselves on the outskirts of the city at what was referred to as the national park. The auto ride was 120 rupees for three people (a little less than a dollar per person) and the bus ride was 28 rupees. I was pleasantly surprised to find that the bus was air-conditioned (it was actually quite cold on the ride back), in fact it looked very similar to those found in DC and Europe, the only tangible difference being that there was standing room only for the majority of the trip—i.e. the bus was grossly over-packed.
The park itself was quite nice, although I was disappointed to find that despite the many hawkers outside none were selling nimbo-pani (lemonade, nimbo=lemon & pani=water), something that I was looking forward too. (After we got back to New Tipassandra [the area were the group home is], a few of us decided to stop off at a juice bar and it too did not have nimbo-pani although of course both sellers knew what I was talking about.) Many of the other girls were gooing over the elephant ride, but having been on one as a means of transportation to the Amber Fort in Rajasthan, I decided not to buy a ticket. We all did go on the safari however… I must admit that I was not expecting much and was surprised each time we entered a new section of the park and thus the safari continued for that much longer. (The different animals were kept in different sections of the park, blocked off by a gate that acted like the locks [is that the right word?] at a canal, wherein we drove past one gate only to be stopped by another which would not open until the first had been shut). There were a lot of bears at the beginning and at some point the bus conductor insisted on taking my camera from me and taking pictures with it. While this did guarantee great views—I was toward the back of the bus on an inside seat, many of the shots I wanted to take involved framing the photo of the animals with the Indian passengers to show case the true essence of an Indian safari (perhaps that while we have great views, probably the best views any safari can afford in fact, we’re dangerously close to the animals or the simple fact that here urban Indians are awing at animals that rural Indians take as part of their landscape.) One picture in particular that I wanted to capture was two girls each dressed in a salwair keemez with flowers in their hair looking out of the bus at two white tigers. Now if you don’t understand the significance of white tigers than you obviously haven’t read the book The White Tiger byAravind Adiga, which won the Booker Man Prize. No other book could capture India as well. Period. While I do love Shantaram by Gregory David Roberts, the novel details the workings of the black market and underworld which are not necessarily unique to Mumbai, the story’s setting. In contrast The White Tiger shows the rise of a chai-wallah from a rural village to a successful entrepreneur in a large city, a story not unlike the American dream but unfathomable anywhere but India, a country so big and so fabulous that I believe no one, not the government or Bollywood, could ever really taim it.
And this brings me to the Park. For lunch we went to a restaurant just outside of the safari park called the Park. Unfortunately the restaurant had no menus and the waiter insisted we tell him what we want, but kept shooting down any of our requests. We were more lucky at the restaurant next store, except for the drink situation. As a side not, I was looking at the veg (vegetarian) side of the menu because that is all I will eat here (which is not convient at all, every restaurant offers veg or non-veg and many are veg only) and only later realized that the eggs were on the non-veg side of the menu. I do in fact eat eggs (and use omelets or egg buiyani as a main source of protein), and had forget that they are considered non-veg here: basically veg goes beyond vegetarian and really means vegan. Anyways, something of the following dialogue ensued when one of the boys tried to order a diet coke: “Diet Coke, please”/ No diet coke, coke/ fanta?/ No fanta, coke/ Okay, coke…(five minutes later the waiter brings Thumbs up) No coke?/ No, fanta/ fanta, please…(five minutes later the waster brings sprite). The End. I on the other hand ordered a sweet lassi. After the drink hadn’t come for a while I asked one of the help where my drink was and he said no lassi. I then asked the waiter when he returned and he said on minute. I received my lassi five minutes later. From this I can defer that persistence is a necessary trait in India. On another note, this meals showcases why I go veg when in India. The bog who wanted the fanta ordered a chicken dish tossed in rice and needless to say he found several pieces or lumps of matter that were not chicken.
I came back from the day only to fall asleep, the time being around 7.30. I threw off my sleep schedule the day I arrived by falling asleep at 4 in the afternoon. In my defense I had probably been up for 48hours straight so falling asleep that early really just allowed me to re-gain some much needed sleep (I only woke up once in the middle of the night, which was convenient considering I had fallen asleep in my clothes so this way I had a chance to change into my pajamas.)
The park itself was quite nice, although I was disappointed to find that despite the many hawkers outside none were selling nimbo-pani (lemonade, nimbo=lemon & pani=water), something that I was looking forward too. (After we got back to New Tipassandra [the area were the group home is], a few of us decided to stop off at a juice bar and it too did not have nimbo-pani although of course both sellers knew what I was talking about.) Many of the other girls were gooing over the elephant ride, but having been on one as a means of transportation to the Amber Fort in Rajasthan, I decided not to buy a ticket. We all did go on the safari however… I must admit that I was not expecting much and was surprised each time we entered a new section of the park and thus the safari continued for that much longer. (The different animals were kept in different sections of the park, blocked off by a gate that acted like the locks [is that the right word?] at a canal, wherein we drove past one gate only to be stopped by another which would not open until the first had been shut). There were a lot of bears at the beginning and at some point the bus conductor insisted on taking my camera from me and taking pictures with it. While this did guarantee great views—I was toward the back of the bus on an inside seat, many of the shots I wanted to take involved framing the photo of the animals with the Indian passengers to show case the true essence of an Indian safari (perhaps that while we have great views, probably the best views any safari can afford in fact, we’re dangerously close to the animals or the simple fact that here urban Indians are awing at animals that rural Indians take as part of their landscape.) One picture in particular that I wanted to capture was two girls each dressed in a salwair keemez with flowers in their hair looking out of the bus at two white tigers. Now if you don’t understand the significance of white tigers than you obviously haven’t read the book The White Tiger byAravind Adiga, which won the Booker Man Prize. No other book could capture India as well. Period. While I do love Shantaram by Gregory David Roberts, the novel details the workings of the black market and underworld which are not necessarily unique to Mumbai, the story’s setting. In contrast The White Tiger shows the rise of a chai-wallah from a rural village to a successful entrepreneur in a large city, a story not unlike the American dream but unfathomable anywhere but India, a country so big and so fabulous that I believe no one, not the government or Bollywood, could ever really taim it.
And this brings me to the Park. For lunch we went to a restaurant just outside of the safari park called the Park. Unfortunately the restaurant had no menus and the waiter insisted we tell him what we want, but kept shooting down any of our requests. We were more lucky at the restaurant next store, except for the drink situation. As a side not, I was looking at the veg (vegetarian) side of the menu because that is all I will eat here (which is not convient at all, every restaurant offers veg or non-veg and many are veg only) and only later realized that the eggs were on the non-veg side of the menu. I do in fact eat eggs (and use omelets or egg buiyani as a main source of protein), and had forget that they are considered non-veg here: basically veg goes beyond vegetarian and really means vegan. Anyways, something of the following dialogue ensued when one of the boys tried to order a diet coke: “Diet Coke, please”/ No diet coke, coke/ fanta?/ No fanta, coke/ Okay, coke…(five minutes later the waiter brings Thumbs up) No coke?/ No, fanta/ fanta, please…(five minutes later the waster brings sprite). The End. I on the other hand ordered a sweet lassi. After the drink hadn’t come for a while I asked one of the help where my drink was and he said no lassi. I then asked the waiter when he returned and he said on minute. I received my lassi five minutes later. From this I can defer that persistence is a necessary trait in India. On another note, this meals showcases why I go veg when in India. The bog who wanted the fanta ordered a chicken dish tossed in rice and needless to say he found several pieces or lumps of matter that were not chicken.
I came back from the day only to fall asleep, the time being around 7.30. I threw off my sleep schedule the day I arrived by falling asleep at 4 in the afternoon. In my defense I had probably been up for 48hours straight so falling asleep that early really just allowed me to re-gain some much needed sleep (I only woke up once in the middle of the night, which was convenient considering I had fallen asleep in my clothes so this way I had a chance to change into my pajamas.)
Saturday, July 18, 2009
food in LA
I knew that my parents and I would be heading to LA before I knew I was heading to India. So craving the Indian street food not really known to Westerners outside of those who've traveled to India, I looked up restaurants serving pani-puri, figuring that such a big city would have something. Actually that's not how I found the place. When I was stilling working at the Crowne Plaza Hotel restaurant, I was flipping through a magazine (perhaps Restaurant?) that was lying at the hostess booth and came across the restaurant Street. Claiming to serve global street in an upscale environment, the restaurant seemed worth a trip so my family and I went there on my last night in LA. I didn't get the pani-puri or anything Indian for that matter because I didn't want to spoil my taste buds, I wanted to make them wait. Having said that, the food was absolutely delicious. The olive bread, I think the least expensive item of the menu just melted in your both and the Kaya Toast, a specialty of the restaurant's and from Singapore, may just be my new favorite treat. Pieces of toasted toast are lathered in coconut butter and left for you to dip in a sunny side up egg, yummy. I then proceeded to google places in NYC for when I'm there later this summer, so I guess that's where the first half of the story came from.
I also wanted to go to Mahasti Malone's Persian Ice cream, but I didn't plan out our time very well so we didn't get there (but maybe my mom and dad did after I left?). Well, there's always next time. We did however get to Trails, the organic restaurant at the foot off the trails at Griffith Park. I split an egg salad sand which with my mom, forgetting that I actually hate egg salad, but man was it good. And then there were the pies. I got a slice of cherry pie and let me tell you organic is the way to go. Except of course when you're going retro.
After biking up and down the Santa Monica/ Venice Beach area, my family and I stopped off for an ice cream at an old mr. frostie type hole in the wall. They just don't make bonnet's the way they used to anymore. But that was just an appetizer before dinner at the taco truck. My parents and brother went to the one of a kind Korean barbecue truck, while I kept it real with a traditional burrito from a local truck. But I have to hand it to Kogi, the Korean barbecueres, not only did they have a line that was a block long, they twittered there location to keep their loyal following in the loop. Now they get props for that one.
I also wanted to go to Mahasti Malone's Persian Ice cream, but I didn't plan out our time very well so we didn't get there (but maybe my mom and dad did after I left?). Well, there's always next time. We did however get to Trails, the organic restaurant at the foot off the trails at Griffith Park. I split an egg salad sand which with my mom, forgetting that I actually hate egg salad, but man was it good. And then there were the pies. I got a slice of cherry pie and let me tell you organic is the way to go. Except of course when you're going retro.
After biking up and down the Santa Monica/ Venice Beach area, my family and I stopped off for an ice cream at an old mr. frostie type hole in the wall. They just don't make bonnet's the way they used to anymore. But that was just an appetizer before dinner at the taco truck. My parents and brother went to the one of a kind Korean barbecue truck, while I kept it real with a traditional burrito from a local truck. But I have to hand it to Kogi, the Korean barbecueres, not only did they have a line that was a block long, they twittered there location to keep their loyal following in the loop. Now they get props for that one.
Friday, July 17, 2009
All that before stuff.
So I didn't really write all that much leading up to the trip (I promise to really try and keep up while I'm here! blogging is actually kind of fun), but let me go back really quickly-- I'm at an Internet cafe here and they charge by the hour and after finishing my last post, I'm in the middle of an hour.
So I had to travel down to DC to get my visa. I could have mailed it in, but that takes a few days and there really was a time crunch, my parents and I were leaving for LA on Sunday and the earliest the visa could be processed was the Monday before. So, I headed down to DC. But of course there were complications. People are always telling me that I don't give myself enough time and I'm beginning to recognize that that can be true. So not only did I miss the train I had planned to take (the MARC runs between Baltimore Penn and Washington Union Station Monday through Fridays), but I didn't have passport photos with me, something I knew as my mom drove me to the station. The issue was that if I wanted same day processing for my visa, I had to get it there by 11, but my the time I got to DC it was after ten and I still needed my photo take. (I had scheduled an appointed for 9.40 and I even called to say that I was running late, but as I found out when I got there, you really don't need an appointment you just have to drop off your visa application-- which you can do there-- your passport, a copy of proof of residence which they will charge you to copy if you don't come with a copy, and you have to pay up front.) Thank god for the iPhone because I simply googled passport photo DC and punched in the address. The one flaw I see in the directions that the iPhone gives you is that it can't (to the best of my knowledge) take into account the subway. And then there is the issue of the literal direction, for some reason I can never figure out exactly which way I am supposed to be going and this inevitably costs me valuable minutes. So I missed the 11 cut off and proceeded to wander around Georgetown. (The Indian embassy, while on Embassy row in DuPont Circle, outsources it's visa branch to a company on Wisconsin, write by the waterfront in Georgetown). Unfortunately, Georgetown cupcake was closed on Monday, but have no fear I got on on Tuesday when I went back to pick up my visa.
List of things I forgot (yes, I did wait until the last minute to pack, I'm not denying it and that's the first step):
white lacoste baseball cap
excessive ruppees from last trip (yes, I changed over money at the airport but I didn't that was going to be a possibility and in any country you should always have pocket change)
recorder (while I did bring my chuncky cassette-wielding recorder from my piano days, not only did I fail to bring re-placement cassettes, I also didn't look into a new digital recorder and after my brother Chris offered me his, I realized at the last minute I didn't have the installation CD to download the appropriate software to my laptop)
camera bag (Katie Credit, yours is so cool, and it makes you look more professional!)
white pants (although it's not too hot for jeans)
bathrobe (I still think I packed it)
So I had to travel down to DC to get my visa. I could have mailed it in, but that takes a few days and there really was a time crunch, my parents and I were leaving for LA on Sunday and the earliest the visa could be processed was the Monday before. So, I headed down to DC. But of course there were complications. People are always telling me that I don't give myself enough time and I'm beginning to recognize that that can be true. So not only did I miss the train I had planned to take (the MARC runs between Baltimore Penn and Washington Union Station Monday through Fridays), but I didn't have passport photos with me, something I knew as my mom drove me to the station. The issue was that if I wanted same day processing for my visa, I had to get it there by 11, but my the time I got to DC it was after ten and I still needed my photo take. (I had scheduled an appointed for 9.40 and I even called to say that I was running late, but as I found out when I got there, you really don't need an appointment you just have to drop off your visa application-- which you can do there-- your passport, a copy of proof of residence which they will charge you to copy if you don't come with a copy, and you have to pay up front.) Thank god for the iPhone because I simply googled passport photo DC and punched in the address. The one flaw I see in the directions that the iPhone gives you is that it can't (to the best of my knowledge) take into account the subway. And then there is the issue of the literal direction, for some reason I can never figure out exactly which way I am supposed to be going and this inevitably costs me valuable minutes. So I missed the 11 cut off and proceeded to wander around Georgetown. (The Indian embassy, while on Embassy row in DuPont Circle, outsources it's visa branch to a company on Wisconsin, write by the waterfront in Georgetown). Unfortunately, Georgetown cupcake was closed on Monday, but have no fear I got on on Tuesday when I went back to pick up my visa.
List of things I forgot (yes, I did wait until the last minute to pack, I'm not denying it and that's the first step):
white lacoste baseball cap
excessive ruppees from last trip (yes, I changed over money at the airport but I didn't that was going to be a possibility and in any country you should always have pocket change)
recorder (while I did bring my chuncky cassette-wielding recorder from my piano days, not only did I fail to bring re-placement cassettes, I also didn't look into a new digital recorder and after my brother Chris offered me his, I realized at the last minute I didn't have the installation CD to download the appropriate software to my laptop)
camera bag (Katie Credit, yours is so cool, and it makes you look more professional!)
white pants (although it's not too hot for jeans)
bathrobe (I still think I packed it)
I'm here.
So I landed at the Bangalore airport at around 3 o'clock this morning. My Dad had told me to sleep as much as possible on both flights, but especially the latter. Of course though I hardly slept on either flight...
I did manage to catch up on a fair amount of movies on the first, 20
hour, flight from LAX to Dubai . I believe I saw 17 Again, Jerusalema, Bride Wars and Black Hawk Down: Columbia. Jerusalema was an incredible picture. A boy from South Africa's slums gets caught up in crime after being admitted to university, but with no money to pay the fees he soon drops out of school. He eventually becomes known as the Robin hood of the area after he turns apartment buildings into co-op type consortions, essentially evicting the landlord on the premises that the rich white are leaving the poor black to live in squabble while continually upping the rent.
While I did have an end seat which theoretically gave me more leg room on that first flight, I found myself unable to stretch out my legs in the isle because the stewardesses would "accidentally" ram the drink carts into my legs. There was also the issue of the man sitting next to me, an Indian who continued on to Bangalore on the same flight as me. Not only did he have very, very strong B.O., he would tap me after I finally did fall asleep because he had to go to the bathroom.
Flight number two: Dubai to Bangalore, 4 hours.
I actually did intend to sleep on this flight, but I was seated next to an adorable little Indian girl. During the fall while in Vizag someone observed that I tended to make friends that were either older or younger than me, but usually not my own age. Well, this girl fit that pattern. She, her mother and younger brother were traveling from Bahrain to Bangalore to visit her extended family. Her immediate family lives in Bahrain where her father works. She said she attended a English-speaking school and I immediately remembered Thomas Friedman commenting in his book Hot, Flat, and Crowded about the US shutting down the premier American school in the country years back due to a with drawl of their personnel in the area (and thus there was no longer a need for their American children to be educated), or maybe it was Kuwait? I also remember a boy I met at Georgetown summer school who was Bahrainian and whose tuition at an elite US boarding school and his future college plans were all funded by the prince of Bahrain.
And those were the flights. When I got off the flight, I was checked for swine flu! A scanner type device was held up to my head and apparently that constitutes an examination. All I could think about though was how on the swine flu questionnaire there was a question about whether you had come into contact with anyone who has had the flu. I wanted to write, yes, my friend Dani, but I decided to refrain. After I got through customs and collected my luggage, I met with the i to i driver but had to wait another 3-4 hours for another volunteer's flight to get in. I passed the time by reading my book-- Holy Cow by Sarah McDonald, gifted to me by my brother's girlfriend, is actually a surprisingly good read and while some of what she touches on is rather typical, she does undercover some hidden gems (like the white Sikhs, who knew?!). As a matter of fact the weather was quite chilly, but the arrival area was not too crowded and there were several rows of chairs to sit in. And I also bought the July India Vogue, Deepika is on the cover in what I think is a gorgeous D&G dress.
I arrived at the group home after about a 45 minute drive. There is an older woman who runs (and owns the house). She will make the meals and help us figure things out. I have a room mate who I think is British but I'm not really sure because she went off to Mysore on a day trip with someone shortly after I arrived. I think there will be 7 boys/girls in the house and there is a similar house down the road.
So about the city... there are street names and, gasp, street signs! I must admit though, even though the climate is much more temperate here (aided tremendously by the fact that it's monsoon season) I think I'm really going to miss the water. In Vizag it was literally right there, boom, I look out my window and there's the Bay of Bengal. But alas, I am in Bangalore now...
P.S. I think I shall wait until I get back to the US to post my photographs and I'll probably end up doing so all at once on my facebook as I did before.
I did manage to catch up on a fair amount of movies on the first, 20
hour, flight from LAX to Dubai . I believe I saw 17 Again, Jerusalema, Bride Wars and Black Hawk Down: Columbia. Jerusalema was an incredible picture. A boy from South Africa's slums gets caught up in crime after being admitted to university, but with no money to pay the fees he soon drops out of school. He eventually becomes known as the Robin hood of the area after he turns apartment buildings into co-op type consortions, essentially evicting the landlord on the premises that the rich white are leaving the poor black to live in squabble while continually upping the rent.While I did have an end seat which theoretically gave me more leg room on that first flight, I found myself unable to stretch out my legs in the isle because the stewardesses would "accidentally" ram the drink carts into my legs. There was also the issue of the man sitting next to me, an Indian who continued on to Bangalore on the same flight as me. Not only did he have very, very strong B.O., he would tap me after I finally did fall asleep because he had to go to the bathroom.
Flight number two: Dubai to Bangalore, 4 hours.
I actually did intend to sleep on this flight, but I was seated next to an adorable little Indian girl. During the fall while in Vizag someone observed that I tended to make friends that were either older or younger than me, but usually not my own age. Well, this girl fit that pattern. She, her mother and younger brother were traveling from Bahrain to Bangalore to visit her extended family. Her immediate family lives in Bahrain where her father works. She said she attended a English-speaking school and I immediately remembered Thomas Friedman commenting in his book Hot, Flat, and Crowded about the US shutting down the premier American school in the country years back due to a with drawl of their personnel in the area (and thus there was no longer a need for their American children to be educated), or maybe it was Kuwait? I also remember a boy I met at Georgetown summer school who was Bahrainian and whose tuition at an elite US boarding school and his future college plans were all funded by the prince of Bahrain.
And those were the flights. When I got off the flight, I was checked for swine flu! A scanner type device was held up to my head and apparently that constitutes an examination. All I could think about though was how on the swine flu questionnaire there was a question about whether you had come into contact with anyone who has had the flu. I wanted to write, yes, my friend Dani, but I decided to refrain. After I got through customs and collected my luggage, I met with the i to i driver but had to wait another 3-4 hours for another volunteer's flight to get in. I passed the time by reading my book-- Holy Cow by Sarah McDonald, gifted to me by my brother's girlfriend, is actually a surprisingly good read and while some of what she touches on is rather typical, she does undercover some hidden gems (like the white Sikhs, who knew?!). As a matter of fact the weather was quite chilly, but the arrival area was not too crowded and there were several rows of chairs to sit in. And I also bought the July India Vogue, Deepika is on the cover in what I think is a gorgeous D&G dress.
I arrived at the group home after about a 45 minute drive. There is an older woman who runs (and owns the house). She will make the meals and help us figure things out. I have a room mate who I think is British but I'm not really sure because she went off to Mysore on a day trip with someone shortly after I arrived. I think there will be 7 boys/girls in the house and there is a similar house down the road.
So about the city... there are street names and, gasp, street signs! I must admit though, even though the climate is much more temperate here (aided tremendously by the fact that it's monsoon season) I think I'm really going to miss the water. In Vizag it was literally right there, boom, I look out my window and there's the Bay of Bengal. But alas, I am in Bangalore now...
P.S. I think I shall wait until I get back to the US to post my photographs and I'll probably end up doing so all at once on my facebook as I did before.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Bangalore, Bengaluru?
I will be in Bangalore from July 18th (at 3am) to August 14th. My family and I are visiting my brother in LA the preceding week so I'll be leaving for India from LAX. I will be flying Emirates air and connecting in Dubai, maybe I'll get to practice my Arabic? The first leg of the trip is 20 hours and then DXB to BLR is 4 hours; luckily the layover is only two hours. My dad and I are running a race in Manhattan the weekend I get back so I'm going to fly into JFK. (We also got tickets to go up to the statue of liberty crown which I am unbelievably excited for). I'm going to bring my laptop and camera with me and I plan to keep up with this blog. I actually bought my Canon EOS D-60 in India the last time around so ever since I've been back to the states I've had to use an adapter to charge the battery, it'll be nice to just plug it in!
I will be interning at a magazine through i to i meaningful travel; my brother did community work in Ghana last summer and had a positive experience with the organization. As of now, I am partnered with the magazine Travel & Shop, a relatively new travel guide for Bangalore published every fortnight. I found this press release from last summer: http://www.prlog.org/10102716-travel-shop-new-fortnightly-travel-guide-in-bengaluru.html I'm not sure what my exact duties will be at the magazine, but I have an orientation upon arrival. I will be staying in a group home with other i to i participants who do not necessarily have a newspaper placement, but who could be volunteering with street children for example.
I am in the process of completing my application for an India visa. Unfortunately my visa from the fall expired on June 29th, so it's no good. I have to go down to DC next week, but of course the Indian embassy doesn't issue their own visas: they outsource them.
The visa application asks for "the object of journey." I was told to put tourism so I wouldn't cause a stir or complicate things; I think I came in on a student visa in the fall. What really, I wonder, are the objects of any of our journeys? I went to India in the fall to study for a semester because I couldn't possibly imagine returning to my school after junior year. Of course I wanted to take part in the senior festivities at my school, I so very much did, but you can't have your cake and eat it too, right? I flew halfway around the world and missed the opening convocation of my senior year to be able to walk down the aisle at my graduation this past June because I somehow knew that if my body were at both events, my heart wouldn't be. And so my object of that journey wasn't so much to go to India, but to leave the 410. Well here I am six months later and to tell you the truth I would be perfectly content staying at home for the rest of the summer, volunteering and getting to know my city a little better. So why am I leaving, or going for that matter? I don't really think I can answer that question. Over the years I've spent countless hours conjuring up adventure after adventure in some exotic land via the Internet. I've been privileged to live some of those fantasies out, but others have been safely confined to my computer. What makes one jump off the screen and not another, I wonder? Why am I going to India, not Egypt or Lebanon? Was it a matter of convince or timing or are they both really just the same? Do I dare say that after all the traveling I've done maybe I'm jaded? Perhaps I've come to think of traveling as some sort of default mode that I can shroud myself in if things are going my way. I can only hope that one day the object of my journey will be to go to India-- to breathe in her humid, sticky air and bathe in her water, because you know what, she's absolutely positively fabulous.
I will be interning at a magazine through i to i meaningful travel; my brother did community work in Ghana last summer and had a positive experience with the organization. As of now, I am partnered with the magazine Travel & Shop, a relatively new travel guide for Bangalore published every fortnight. I found this press release from last summer: http://www.prlog.org/10102716-travel-shop-new-fortnightly-travel-guide-in-bengaluru.html I'm not sure what my exact duties will be at the magazine, but I have an orientation upon arrival. I will be staying in a group home with other i to i participants who do not necessarily have a newspaper placement, but who could be volunteering with street children for example.
I am in the process of completing my application for an India visa. Unfortunately my visa from the fall expired on June 29th, so it's no good. I have to go down to DC next week, but of course the Indian embassy doesn't issue their own visas: they outsource them.
The visa application asks for "the object of journey." I was told to put tourism so I wouldn't cause a stir or complicate things; I think I came in on a student visa in the fall. What really, I wonder, are the objects of any of our journeys? I went to India in the fall to study for a semester because I couldn't possibly imagine returning to my school after junior year. Of course I wanted to take part in the senior festivities at my school, I so very much did, but you can't have your cake and eat it too, right? I flew halfway around the world and missed the opening convocation of my senior year to be able to walk down the aisle at my graduation this past June because I somehow knew that if my body were at both events, my heart wouldn't be. And so my object of that journey wasn't so much to go to India, but to leave the 410. Well here I am six months later and to tell you the truth I would be perfectly content staying at home for the rest of the summer, volunteering and getting to know my city a little better. So why am I leaving, or going for that matter? I don't really think I can answer that question. Over the years I've spent countless hours conjuring up adventure after adventure in some exotic land via the Internet. I've been privileged to live some of those fantasies out, but others have been safely confined to my computer. What makes one jump off the screen and not another, I wonder? Why am I going to India, not Egypt or Lebanon? Was it a matter of convince or timing or are they both really just the same? Do I dare say that after all the traveling I've done maybe I'm jaded? Perhaps I've come to think of traveling as some sort of default mode that I can shroud myself in if things are going my way. I can only hope that one day the object of my journey will be to go to India-- to breathe in her humid, sticky air and bathe in her water, because you know what, she's absolutely positively fabulous.
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