I was peed on!

Posted on November 15, 2013 by Kitty Vindaloo

We went for a walk through the backstreets.  Very back streets, unpaved, dirt roads, full of smiling people.  We hopped on a tuk tuk, gave him the general direction of where we wanted to go, had him drop us off before the final destination, and instead of going straight on the main road, took a left into the unknown.  You can easily get sucked into the modernism of Bangalore and forget that ½ mile off the main avenues, there are villages where white people aren’t seen often.

We walk, slowly, since walking in this country requires focus.  Two little girls about 11 years old ride by on a pink bicycle.  I smile, they smile.  And giggle. And ride along.  And they come back, stare and giggle some more.  The one on the back is a little bit braver and says hi.  We respond and wave.  We meet them a bit later at the village square and they are still staring at us, smiling.  It’s obvious they are following us.  That’s cute.  We go on.  And poof, 50 feet away, here she is again, off the bike, alone.  Hello.  Hi, what is your name?  My name is Shanti.  Hi Shanti, my name is A.  Hi, what village are you from? I live at the (insert here name of the housing complex where we live).  Your English is very good.  Thank you.  And she runs back to her friend.

The ladies selling flowers decided I needed a string of jasmine in my hair, and I wasn’t going to say no since I had wanted to do that since I first came in the spring.  She didn’t even sell it to me, she gave them to me and put them on my hair clip.  I wasn’t expecting the flowers to be wet.  Every time I moved my head little drops of water fell on my neck.  So, jasmine flowers in your hair serve two purposes: it is refreshing, and it covers up sewer smells.

A three year old boy pulls down his pants, grabs this little thingie and starts peeing.  Three feet away, facing me.  Without any concern about the fact that a human being was right there.  So I got sprayed.  And yes, if I get urine on my shoes, I get the right to say he has a little thingie!

our first village cat

our first village cat

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Two Americans spotted at the Bannerghatta National Park

Posted on November 13, 2013 by Kitty Vindaloo

“Dear Diary, today we went to Bannerghatta National Park.  We saw some tigers, elephants, crocodiles and two Americans.  It was great.  We have pictures of all of them.  The Americans even smiled for the camera.”  No kidding, this is probably what would transpire from the journal of some of the people we met at the park!  And they weren’t even discreet about taking pictures of us directly a couple of feet in front of us, and even asked if we would pose with them.  That was so sweet!  A friend asked if we felt like celebrities.  No, we felt more like monkeys, but that’s ok, we certainly were a curiosity for some of the village kids who were there on a field trip!

We left rather early on Sunday morning to avoid the crowd and the heat, though the weather was perfect.  It takes about an hour to drive the 22 kms from Bangalore.  The park itself is larger than the island of Manhattan.  They have a large zoo with cages/enclosures while other animals are kept in the forest that is the park, and seem to roam free.  It’s AMAZING.  We opted for the Jeep tour through the park but next time we will hop on the buses.  The ride was rather bumpy and I have a series of bruises on my arm, but they are happy bruises!

So what did we see?  Erick made a bee line for the King Cobra while I did all I could to avoid it!  WARNING: If you don’t like snakes, scroll down quickly and skip the next image.

King Cobra

King Cobra

I prefer the furry animals.  I spent a lot of time with the leopards.  This group was in cages and it was sad to see them walk back and forth, like they do in all zoos around the world.  But they are gorgeous animals.

Leopard

Leopard in an enclosure

They have a variety of monkeys but we were more amused by the wild monkeys walking around than the ones in the enclosures.  A mother was looking after her two rambunctious offsprings who were fighting like only brothers and sisters can.  Meanwhile, the father was knocking down garbage cans and drinking leftover fruit juices (click on a picture to start the slideshow).

Walking among us
Monkey foraging
Monkey drinking

I am now in absolute awe with tigers.  They are so elegant, sleek, with cute little round ears.  One was walking towards the lake and took a swim.  The ripple on the water was soft, the birds kept chirping.  The orange coat of the tiger was shining through the green leaves.  And the paws, oh, they are humongous.

Some of the lions were in a large enclosure while others were in the wild, within the park of course.  The lioness was being a ham!  She decided to chew on her paws, and I could see giant versions of the kittens!

There are many more animals such as hippopotami (they stink), turtles (the exact ones we find in our backyard in Texas, which makes them exotic animals here), parrots and colorful birds (they are loud), sloth bears, himalayan bears and white tigers.

We didn’t see them all, but we will be back.  No doubt.  And Idhaya, we’ll come and pick you up!

leopardheader

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The international language of screaming

Posted on November 8, 2013 by Kitty Vindaloo

No no, not me, not yet, I am still cool as a cucumber, enjoying every minute of this amazing country.

But I still don’t have a phone.

It was supposed to take 2-3 days.  It’s been 14 days.  It was tomorrow, then this evening Madam, promised.  Then there was the Diwali festival, so Madam you understand.  Of course.  Then we will call you for confirmation.  They don’t call.  I stay put in my (superb) hotel room.  No call.  No confirmation.  Silence.

All of this was done with the help of the wonderful hotel staff who crossed the street numerous times into the nearby mall to go to Airtel and get them to do their job.  They included their friends since one of the hotel staff used to work for Airtel.  Nothing.  No phone.  No service.

Oh, yesterday, miracle, we get the confirmation phone call.  Not one but two.  Yeah!  Things are moving along!!  Tomorrow morning Madam we come to the hotel to do a physical confirmation.  Huh??  It better not be…  But of course, no one shows up.

Accompanied by a hotel representative, after getting a pass to go inside the ITPL, we get to see real people at Airtel.  After going over the normal reasons as to why it has been 14 days since I applied, and paid, for a phone, they are stumped.  They call each other, and though they speak Kannada, language of which I understand not a word, it is very clear that the young guy is telling his counterpart to stop with the excuses and do the needful (yes), since all my documents are in order.  Mister manager comes around, takes the phone and starts screaming at the person on the other side!!  You do no make false promises to my customer.  She is in front of me.  She has all the documents.  You did not do your job.  You are making me look bad.  If the application is incorrect, you start again but you do not let it go on forever.  Get to work!!!!!

Then he hangs up and smiles.

I am supposed to have a working phone by tonight.

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Two bicycles and a pooja

Posted on November 4, 2013 by Kitty Vindaloo

Yeah, we bought bikes.  Cycles as they say here.  A pink one with a front basket for me, and a yellow one with gears for him.  We are giddy!  We refused to go to Decathlon, a French sports equipment store similar to the Academy in the US, and insisted on going to a local store.  We ended up on a little street close to Commercial Street in downtown Bangalore, a few feet from a mosque.  We tried three stores.  In the second one, we were told one of the biggest lies I have heard in a while: “Don’t worry Madam, the bike is not too big, it will adapt to you in a week”.  Ha!

Why bikes when you have a dedicated driver?  Because it’s fun!  Against my original wishes, we will be living in a gated community, which is big enough for me to simply ride around.  There are parks inside the community, and my pink wheels will allow me to do more people watching.  Also, some of the back roads around here are safe enough to ride on.  Riding on the main streets would be suicidal!

Marigold rangoli

Now for the second big thing of  yesterday: we were invited to the Diwali pooja (prayer) at the hotel.  Diwali is the Hindu New Year and it’s a big deal here, similar to Christmas in the US, though less in South India than in North India we were told.  The hotel was hosting a pooja for its staff.  The banquet room was superbly decorated.  Garlands of yellow and orange marigolds, little Diwali lamps, and a beautiful altar with Ganesh and Lakshmi, the goddess of wealth.  As far I understand, Ganesh is the god of good luck.  I particularly like the banana leaves on each side. The hotel had been given authorization to invite a priest to perform the ceremony and he was already there when we arrived, preparing the offerings of fruits.  Each department from the hotel brought their books to be blessed and put them on the altar.  The staff all sat on the right side of the room, on the floor, with three managers in the front.

Priest preparing the altar. We asked permission before taking the picture

The priest started chanting in Sanskrit.  Loud.  And didn’t stop for 45 minutes.  Not a drop of water to soothe his throat.  He kept throwing small items on the altar.  Managers were given small things as well, such as flower petals, or rice to be thrown on/at the gods.  The name of the hotel was pronounced, so the hotel itself is now blessed for a full year. Towards the end, participants (that means us) were given fragrant rice to throw.  The priest poured a small amount of food (some unidentified sweet something with honey) in our hand and we ate it.  And put a bit of the red powder on our foreheads.  And we are now both sporting a red ribbon around our wrists for good luck, tied by the priest.  I am not taking mine off until it breaks apart!

Diwali would not be Diwali without firecrackers, so outside we went, and boys behaved like little kids on the parking lot!  One firecracker went over the trees and onto the street!

Aside from it being very interesting, as you don’t see a Brahmin at work everyday where we come from, for me, it was moving.  There was no special club, no class to be taken, no test to prepare for before being invited to join.  I felt honored to be invited in the first place (not many hotel guests were present).

square-1

Update.  Between the time I wrote this and the time I was about to post, we decided to borrow the hotel bicycles.  I fell twice (the bike was too big, it hadn’t adapted yet!), and neighborhood dogs thought I was dinner…  Our pink and yellow bikes were delivered, and I am not so sure the cycle thing was such a great plan!

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Immigrants and cookies

Posted on October 31, 2013 by Kitty Vindaloo

Up at 6:30 to be at the immigration office at 7:45.  It’s called the Foreign Regional Registration Office or FRRO for short.  It takes at least an hour to drive to downtown Bangalore but if you leave early you can beat traffic.  We are no longer fazed by sharing the road with tractors!

In the summer, with all the foreign students, the line in front of the FRRO can go around the block, but today we were 5th in line, thanks to Leon, the immigration coordinator who stood in line for us before we arrived.  That’s how nice they are here, they wait in line for you.

At 8:30, the office opens.  You go into a room, walk around the velvet rope dividers and wait a few minutes at the counter (longer if you’re not 5th in line) and they review your file.   You have to bring about 10 different documents, including proof of residence (signed by the hotel), letter of employment, salary grid, photos…  Then you get a token.  I thought it was going to look like a casino chip, but it’s only a small sheet of paper with a number on it.  Bummer, I wanted a casino chip.

Then you wait again.  Outside.  The second immigration office, which is upstairs, only opens at 9:30.  This is when we ventured a bit for the first time since we are here, and had “local” tea and coffee.  Oh boy was that good!  Milk in both and tons of sugar. Leon’s was in a glass, ours was served in a paper cup, because white tummies can’t handle drinking from glasses washed in non-filtered water.

At 9:30 you mozy on upstairs for the second round of document review.  The exact same documents that were presented and reviewed downstairs.  But 9:30 is only the time at which the government workers sit at their desk.  Then it takes a while to start the computers, launch the software, have the coffee lady serve coffee (none for the immigrants), check the angle and positioning of computer monitors.  You wait.  Then they call your token number.  And review the documents again.  And take your picture.  And ask you to come back later.  Our next appointment, the third of the day, is set for 1:00.  We were lucky everything was in order, but a French man was up in arms because some forms were missing.

Round two of living dangerously today: we were hungry.  What does the driver, who has a great sense of humor, suggest as a lunch place?  TGIF and McDonald!  No no no!  So he brought us to this South Indian restaurant where they serve wonderful dosas.  Guess what I had for breakfast/lunch?  A cheese plain dosa.  And another tea.  In a ceramic cup.  Washed with water that was probably not filtered.  But I am hoping the hot tea will have killed the bacteria.  However, “someone” who was willing to risk spending the weekend in the hotel bathroom ate (by mistake for the first bite) his dosa with the chutney/condiments.  Condiments are not always refrigerated properly, nor are they prepared with clean vegetables, hence the precaution.  Lunch was under $3.00.

Next stop, the pet store.  We are running out of the American pet food we brought and the “kittens” are about to go hungry as well.  There was only one choice for cats, so our adult American shorthair cats are now eating Persian kitten food.  Maybe they will become fluffier and younger!

We still have quite a while before the immigration appointment, and we see  a bakery.  Indians love sweets.  And our driver too I believe.  He keeps mentioning that his kids like cookies, but I suspect he has a sweet tooth!  Indian cookies are very good.  From the simple butter cookie to salt cookies, to cumin cookies (my favorite, jeera cookies) to masala cookies.  Those are an acquired taste: chili peppers, or black pepper in a cookie.  Did I mention I am getting fat?

Back to the immigration office’s waiting room.  It is now much hotter, and smellier!  About a third of the people waiting are from West Africa, most fairly young, probably students.  I noticed four French families.  Among other countries present were Thailand, Yemen, Iran, China, and Sudan.  I looked at passport covers, that’s how I know!  A lot of the younger crowd had textbooks, students in engineering or pharmacy.

Right on time, they call our first name, give us a nice sheet of paper stating we are now official residents of India.  That’s it.  But a young man next to us was being asked to go back to his country.  “No more extensions, no more”.

And we get to do that all over again once we have a permanent address.  Cookies and all!

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Since we don’t have a house yet, we are living in a hotel for about a month.  On one side of our hotel room, we see this:

view pool

Not bad if you’re on vacation, but honestly, blahhh…  However, on the other side of the room, we see this:

Now this is interesting, this is India!

I have been snooping on our neighbors for the last few days.  It looks like an empty lot, but there is a lot of activity going on there.  There is always a clothesline under the first smaller awning, sometimes with clothes, sometimes without.  A couple of days ago, it turned into Whitefield’s largest walk-in closet.

Grab undershirt
Grab shirt
Put on shirt
Button up shirt
Button cuffs

Hi Ho, Hi Ho, and off to work he go!

Posted on October 29, 2013 by Kitty Vindaloo | Leave a comment

It’s a pretty sweet feeling when a woman at the store doesn’t believe you have only been in the country for 5 days but thinks you have already spent 2 years here!  It warmed my heart.  And that was necessary since we are having difficulties securing a place to live.  I am not sure I understand the meaning of “negotiating” when the original asking price keeps increasing.  And we are not getting much love from HQ on the other side of the ocean.  Something’s got to give.  Fingers crossed.

I am getting fat.  The hotel keeps feeding us.  They understand we are not interested in their fancy Italian fare and would rather have anything Indian, though we know it’s Indian for Western tastebuds.  Never mind, bring it on, it’s yummy!  And hospitality is such in this country that if the chef remembers you like non fat fluffy omelets, they will have one delivered to your table every day! Want to have fun?  Order masala tea two days in a row and switch to Darjeeling tea on the third.  They will be so confused!  I don’t even waste time looking at the menu anymore, I simply ask them to choose for me.  I may very well be getting what’s left in the kitchen, but I don’t care.  Actually, that can’t be true because jet lag is getting the best of me this time, and I am in bed snoozing by 8:30pm.  They are also teaching me about fruit.  They have a variety of fruits I had never seen nor tasted before.  I tried tamarind this morning.  I am not a big fan.

It’s raining.  A constant drizzle interrupted by heavy rains.  It makes for traffic jams even worse than usual.  Los Angeles has nothing on Bangalore.  But it’s way more fun here because: 1- we have a driver, and yes, he’s an excellent driver (admit it, you read that in your mind in the voice of Dustin Hoffman!), 2- you get to share the road with cows, tuk tuks and tractors.

Tractor in the rain

Tractor in the rain

Posted on October 25, 2013 by Kitty Vindaloo | Leave a comment

Day two: we crashed a wedding

Posted on October 20, 2013 by Kitty Vindaloo

We really didn’t mean to!  I wanted to go to a Catholic church, not because it’s Sunday and I wanted to go to mass, but because my mother passed away two months ago, and you can’t erase the effects of 10 years of catholic boarding school!  And it was also a nice way to get us out of the hotel with a specific purpose in mind.  It’s not easy to explain to your driver “Just drive around, please”.  They like to have a destination, a place to go TO.

I had found pictures of a funky little church on Google Earth.  It’s very close to where we are, a 10-minute drive.  On a Sunday, there aren’t many people on the streets of Whitefield.  It’s even eerily quiet.

We were just passing the gate when our driver announced: “Oh, there is a marriage”.  He explained the ceremony would take place at the church, but the reception would be some place else.  Same as in the US.  I thought we were going to turn around, but he slowly drove down the dirt road to the church and parked.  We got out, walked up the hill up to a statue of Jesus on the cross, right next to the water tower.  We walked back down.  I was disappointed the church looked closed, with metal bars.  But we still slowly went around the building and I could see through the open windows that a door was open on the other side.  So we walked as quietly as we could as to not disturb the wedding guests, and came inside.

Simplicity.  Humility.  It was just the two of us.  An older gentleman came in a few minutes after us, sat at a pew with a prayer book.  He didn’t even make eye contact.

Outside, about a hundred guests were waiting.  A few people smiled at us.  The saris were beautiful, most of them with gold or silver accents.  Since we were not invited, I took no pictures, I am not that rude!

And then to the grocery store we go, because you learn a lot about a country in grocery stores.  We bought cookies, and drinks.  I like “Slice”, a mango drink.  The checkout guy explained to us that if we were to … (we didn’t understand what he said here), it would be cheaper.  So we did what most people would do and simply answered “huh huh, thank you”.  He continues to ring the cookies.  The man in line behind us then repeated in an English we are more familiar with that if we buy the large bottle, it is 20 rupees cheaper.  That’s how nice they are here: they translate from English to English!

 Tomorrow we go house hunting.

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Country of residence? India

Posted on October 18, 2013 by Kitty Vindaloo

We made it.  All of us.  And all four of us seem happy.

At the hotel this morning: “Could we bring plates to our room to put the cat food please? Sure, no problem Madam.”  They come back a few minutes later with little black plastic dishes.  “We are sorry, our cat is allergic to plastic.” They stare, and we feel like idiots!  But it’s true, our little one is allergic to plastic bowls and develops acne, then has to have her chin shaved and looks all funny!  So no plastic bowls, we leave with two saucers and a cereal bowl.

We have been here for only a few hours and we feel like celebrities.  We are famous because of the cats.  A lot of people bring dogs, but cats are rather unusual.  The chef came to introduce herself at breakfast and not only knew who we are, but had already seen pictures of the kittens.  Last night, so many people at the airport came to take a peek at the fur balls!

The transaction at the India Customs was painless.  Slow, but painless.  It was neat to see them write the information in an old-fashioned ledger, pen and paper instead of computers.  It took one person to read the information off the Quarantine Officer form, and another to write it down.

Two vans were waiting for us.  One for luggage and one for the “live” luggage, ie, two humans and two felines.  And of course, everybody at the hotel was ready for our arrival, at 3:30 am.  Litter boxes were in place in the room as we had requested.  Efficient.

Talking about efficiency, the Frankfurt airport gets a big fat zero.  We had to speed-walk for 40 minutes (no, this is no exaggeration), had to be subjected to 30-minute “random” search of our luggage (no, the photo equipment is not a bomb) and almost missed our flight.  Lufthansa made up for it with their kindness, even finding a dry shirt for my hubby.

The kittens didn’t like the trip.  Although we gave them “kitty valium”, our little one threw a fit almost the entire time, trying to claw her way out of her carrier.  She rubbed her nose raw pushing through the mesh fabric.  But they are now running around, for as much as you can run around on marble-like floors when you’re a cat.  They don’t seem to hold a grudge.

 As I type this, they are at the foot of the bed, sleeping together.

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I wasn’t born in ’05

Posted on October 9, 2013 by Kitty Vindaloo

We are almost there.  The countdown has started.  Suitcases are getting packed.  Lists are made.  The grieving continues.  Documents are scanned, signed and FedExed.  Cars are sold.  Hopefully, so will the condo in the next few days.

We are encountering last minute idiots, the ones that could make or break the trip.  It looks like everything we have to delegate turns out done incorrectly.  At least when we make mistakes, we can blame each other!  The last official documents we received tonight shows my birthdate with false day, month and year.  No, I wasn’t born in ’05, whether it be 1905 or 2005.  Not even 1965, 75 or 85.

The kittens’ papers are almost in order, the last thing we need is the approval from the Indian government.  We drove to Los Angeles and were in the APHIS office at 7:30 this morning.  This, we did not delegate!  But we went into a frenzy last week when the government decided on this insane shutdown.  Another group of idiots.  We’re lucky this part of the government is financed with fees.  Right now, I like fees.

It feels surreal yet very present.  The numerous pieces of luggage around the apartment are a constant reminder that we’re leaving.  Bottles of Permethrin (against mosquitoes) and packs of Wet Ones (antibacterial wipes) on the counters.  Driving a car that isn’t ours (a rental).  Not buying much food since we would have to give it away.  Not buying books.  Now that’s a big one for me!  And we are getting on each other’s nerves.  A lot…

But in this chaos that our life has become, there is one certainty: we have no second thoughts.  Not once in the last few months have we wondered if we’ve made the wrong decision.  There have never been talks of backing out.

India, here we come!!!

Our little one

Our little one

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