Driving to Nanital- 30 miles per Hour

With my dad coming into town, we were set to explore Delhi, the hills east of Delhi (Almora and Nanital) and Agra. First on the list was Delhi. I was actually really nervous to go to Delhi. It had been just a week since the terrorist attacks on Mumbai and an email was sent to someone saying that the terrorists planned to hijack a plane on December 6th (when I was flying) and perform a 9/11 on Delhi, the airport I was going. I set up a ride from the airport so we could run right out of the place and into a safe car.

The flight was lovely and security was tight. I carried on luggage for the first time so we could leave the airport even faster. Our flight went smoothly and exited the airport with ease as our driver was waiting for us. We let our driver know we were going to Nanital, a beautiful hill station east of Delhi. Nanital is around 390 kilometers away, which is about 240 miles. Knowing that it takes about 5 hours to get to Santa Barbara which is 350 or so miles away, I figured we could look around Nanital some. This trip made me understand the beauty of the roads of America. It took us 9 hours to make this drive! For a 10 kilometer patch, there was no paved road, just pot holes and bumps. At another point, there was a one way bridge that had means to regulate which direction of traffic would go. The cars coming from the different direction were more aggressive so our side of the road sat there for about 30 minutes waiting for a chance to cross the bridge!

Although tedious at times, the drive was interesting. We went from Delhi through rural village up to the windy roads of the hills up to Nanital. The most surreal part of the drive was when we were driving on an unpaved road. The white dust from the road filled the air and settled on all of the plants around us. The world looked black and white. White palm trees and tropical plants lined the road. The thing that made this scene so stunning was that the fields which grew something were bright green because they were new vegetation. It looked like a photograph where certain part of the images are in black and white and some in color. Imagine a white world with a vibrant lime green ground. Of course my camera was dead for this and it was too busy for my dad to get a picture in.

We finally got to our hotel on a hill after clumsily navigating the windy one way roads of Nanital. The air was crisp and cool. Nothing like the dusty heat we had spent the day. Our hotel was a converted British summer home. It was cozy and fit the mountain scenery well.

Team Dinner: Of Milk and Monkeys

We had a team dinner to wish our teammate (and my roommate) Neelima goodbye as she was heading back to the US. Our table got to talking about several strange Indian stories. The first was the story about the Hindu god Ganesh. All Hindu Indians keep Ganesh around there home. Apparently, one day, several people discovered (independently keep in mind) that if they fed their Ganesh milk, he would drink it. The word spread all over India and everyone began feeding their Ganesh milk. Someone at the table had successfully fed her Ganesh milk on that day. So random!

Another event the team recounted was Monkey Man. Apparently, there was a monkey man running around sneaking into people’s rooms at night and attacking them. People would be on the news showing their Monkey Man scars. In the heat of the scare, small hairy people were frequently beaten randomly by the public because they fit Monkey Man’s description. They never found Monkey Man. He is at large. The idea of a human monkey coming in and scratching me at night is super scary. “Where did this happen?” I asked. Everyone laughed- he apparently was terrorizing Delhi, the place I was set to go in a few days. Now I don’t have to worry about just terrorists, I have to worry about Monkey Man too!

Aaruku Valley- Don't Touch Me

We woke up at 5am to head to the train station to head for Aaruku Valley. Despite the name, Aaruku Valley is a hill station (I think). This is what Indians call any town or area on a hill. We got to the train station with no tickets. Certain trains are passenger only and you can't buy tickets ahead of time. There was an INSANE crowd waiting to buy tickets for the train to this random place. Luckily there was a ladies line apart from the men’s line so we could get tickets a little bit more easily. There were setbacks to the ladies lines though. Men would stand beside the ladies line pulling girl’s hair so their wives could push their way ahead to get tickets. Luckily I didn't have to battle for tickets.

More incidence of disrespect for women (or evidence of hairy women) came when I saw a train car designated for women with a man (or hairy lady) looking out with a thick mustache along with his bearded friend. I would say that is a gender designation fail. I wanted to take a picture for Fail Blog but of course my camera died. Once we got tickets, we hopped on the train. Passenger trains have no assigned seats. You basically sit wherever and they fit as many people as possible on the train. We were lucky enough to get seats. Each time the train stopped more and more people got on. Before we knew it the train was packed like the 45 going downtown after the China Town stops.

Getting on the train was dramatic as well. Our door was stuck half the time as people frantically tried to get on before it left the different stations. As the door remained stuck and the car filled up more and more, I tried to not think about how screwed I would be if a fire broke out on the train. At one stop, they finally opened the door as the train was starting to pull away. Mobs of people were running alongside and jumping on. An older woman tried to jump on and missed, falling. Everyone screamed and gasped. She got up and finally made it on, what a trooper.

A woman got on the train had a 12-13 year old daughter. She started asking my friends and me to move so her daughter could sit. I was tired and am not in good enough shape to stand so a thirteen year old who can't sit still can sit in my place. I ignored her, in part because she was not speaking English. Soon the woman started tapping our legs telling us to move. I continued to ignored her. After about 20 minutes of bothering us, she put her water bottle on our knees leaning on it. My temper from my water polo days started to bubble and if I could have, I would have beat the woman for being so disrespectful.

She then made one final attempt for us to move by pushing my leg forcefully to the side and yelling at me in some foreign language. I said in a polite and stern way, just as a mother would say to someone else's kid, "Don't touch me." The woman freak out. She started yelling out to the packed train that I had told her to not touch me. Everyone started laughing. I didn't care. I still believe you should be able to control who touches you. My friend Ritu tried to defend my honor by yelling at the woman but it was no use. The woman tormented us the entire ride. Ritu finally covered her head with her scarf and tried to sleep.The woman must have thought pretty much ANY kind of touching is ok because she finally got her daughter a seat- on the lap of a group of 18-20 year old guys sitting across from me. The guys were tickling the little girl. I was shocked.

Finally the terribly awkward train ride was over and we are at our destination: Borra Caves. The Borra Caves are apparently a set of caves where the drippings of a cave formed some Hindu deity (very Virgin Mary appearing in some odd place). There were TONS of people to see this miraculous cave. We chose to first go see the waterfall in the area. I took in a deep breath of the fresh air as we saddled up to hike up to the waterfall. I chose to keep my backpack on as we hiked up. I felt like a mountainy northern California person. I definitely earned some legitimacy of owning the signature nor cal Northface fleece. There was a huge set of stairs we had to climb to get to the waterfalls. I expected that once we got to the top we would see the falls. Once we got there, there was a small stream falling off a far off cliff (seen left). What a rip off! Half the group was so discouraged they stayed behind instead of searching for the real falls.

Hiking up the hill to the falls was so fun. I actually saw blue sky and could smell plants! Just as I began to travel into a space of nature bliss looking at small
pools (seen right) and walking uphill, I was reminded I was in India. "You just stepped in shit" said the girl I was walking up with. I looked down and saw I had stepped in something that smelled terrible and was the same color as a banana slug. Considering I was in India, which is lacking public restrooms, this could have been from man or beast. KILL. ME. NOW. I abandoned mission to get to the main falls as I tried to clean off my shoe in a pool. I poured a ton of disinfectant on my shoe and kicked as much off as I could on various rocks. I finally stood up all cleaned off and turned around to see a crowd of young guys watching me go through my horrible ordeal. "Picture Maam?" After the rude treatment on the train and stepping in fecal matter, I was in no mood for a picture. Like a celebrity, I covered my face and dramatically declined as I marched away. What had I become?

I returned to normal (and back down to earth) once we finally got lunch. Lunch was at a restaurant that was more like a front porch made of newspaper. We had plates of dried leaves carefully stitched together. There was no menu at the place, they just serve Thali, which is basically a mini Indian food buffet. This is just like the place I went with my team where they ate with their hands.

They came around with a bucket of rice and dished it to each person. When the dal came around, I knew that this time I would eat with my hands. I mixed the rice and dal with my hands, ignoring everything my mother has taught me. I loved it. It was nice to feel the warmth of my food. I found it much easier to combine different sauces to eat more tastily concocted bites. I scooped up a potato from one sauce, a loose garlic clove from another, and the right amount of sauce with rice to create a heavenly bite of food. I definitely think this is the best way to eat Indian food. It is not just the experience of eating with your hands that makes it superior. It is your fingers abilities to mix food and combine the perfect amount of different elements that makes it the ideal way to eat complex foods. I am definitely getting everyone to eat Thali when we get home.


After Thali, we tried to get to the caves but the line was WAY too long. We finally decided to go home. We got on a bus that would take us to our final destination. The bus was basically like an old yellow school bus but it was as old as a bus from when I was in first grade (which is almost long enough ago that it is time to lie about my age). We sat in the back by the window that said "break glass in case of emergency". I guess jumping out the back window is the best option. The bus ride was pretty long but it was through the hills and I was able to see pine trees! When we arrived at our final destination, 5 of us piled into a small rickshaw with all of our bags (including my huge backpack) and took off to our hotel.

The interesting thing about our hotels for both nights is that they are state owned hotels. This makes them cheaper to stay and more legitimate that some shady cheap hotel. They had pretty good facilities considering how cheap they were.


The highlight of the evening for me after settling in the hotel was walking to the local markets. While walking, I looked up to see TONS of bats flying through the air. They were silent and looked just like the batman sign. It was so exciting to see the never-ending supply of bats. We then got some street food. I had a samosa. It was yummy but WAY too spicy to finish. I also got some onion pakoras, which were like Indian onion rings. We then played on the playground at our hotel until it was time to go to bed.

Right when we got in our room to go to bed the power went off. We sat around in the dark and waited about 15 minutes. Usually the power goes on by then. We went to the
front desk to wait for the lights to go on just in case a killer had shut the power off and was going room to room. The stars were SO bright outside as we walked to the hotel arm and arm in fear. When we finally got the lobby, a man came down who was waiting for room service when the power went off and starting screaming at the reception people for not getting him his food fast enough. It was pretty funny. Finally, the power went back on the chaos died down and I got to go to sleep. What a LOOOOONG day.

Vizag

Once we arrived in Vizag, we took a rickshaw to the hotel. It was a crazy little ride as we swerved in and out of cars. When we got to the hotel, all I wanted to do was wash off my train experience in a hot shower. We were directed to our room, which was just being exited by an elderly couple. "You didn't even clean the room!" protested my coworker/friend/guide Ritu. The hotel staff quickly began cleaning the room. I can't believe they were trying to get us to just move into the room's dirty sheets and used towels!

After thirty minutes of waiting, bathroom was finally cleaned and it was my turn for the shower. I walked in the room to find just a shower head, a bucked, a sink, and a toilet. No shower area. Everything was wet from the previous shower. They just take a shower in the entire bathroom getting the whole room wet. With this damp room came complete with three mosquitoes that tormented me during my shower. As I showered I would fill up the bucket and toss it at the mosquitoes. I got two, one survived. Other than the minor shower battle, I felt refreshed.

We hired a driver for the day to take us around Vizag. It was an old fashion white car that looked like it was from Cuba and had a spunky middle aged driver. We went to lunch at a hotel for some Indian food that was yum (in India you don't say it was great, delicious, or yummy, you just say yum). We then took off to the beach. I put on a swim suite and a dress and brought along a sweater just in case there was a breeze. When we arrived at the beach I realized that I was under dressed. Everyone was in street clothes on the beach- aka saris and even burkas! They were even swimming in their clothing! The young boys were in their underwear and undershirts but for the most part, people were swimming fully clothed. I opted to sit by the beach.

As I was sitting there, a young kid came up to me and asked if he could take a picture with me. I said sure and before I knew it I was surrounded by 20 or so skinny Indian boys taking turns for pictures with me. My friends looked over from frolicking in the waves and ran to me save me from the overwhelming amount of kids surrounding me. We walked down the beach but they followed. I decided that I should probably not go sleeveless and put my sweater on and sat behind a boat. I spent the rest of the afternoon sipping on fresh coconut juice as I enjoyed the warmth and the waves. As we were leaving I had a line of mothers holding adorable toddlers who wanted me to shake theier baby's hands. SO CUTE! My friends started to call me Auntie (aka old woman) after one of the babies called me Auntie.

We then headed to a place with red sand and a meditation look out point with our crazy driver. We then went to an odd amusement park that had large statues of deities and then rides that give you the opportunity to look over the coast. It was like an adult Hindu Pixie Land. I had more photo opportunities with large groups who wanted the tall, white, tired, awkward girl in their vacation photos (exhibit A, group me with group of girls to the left). We first went on a monorail (named by Poppy, the slow boring train) that allowed one half of the train to see the coast during the sun set for about a minute and then it turned a corner and all you could see was dark for the remaining 20 minutes. It made it a little more exciting when the lights turned off on the train and flashy colorful lights started flashing along with Indian dance music.

After the slow boring disco train, we took a gondola down the hill. The contraption looked like it was from the 50's as we slid down the hill. I did not feel very safe in it and was very happy to get my feet on the ground. We then hopped in the car to dinner to an even more deathly situation. While we were at the park, our driver got drunk. He drove us to dinner and managed to turn down the wrong way only once. Luckily traffic in India is slow moving and normally as crazy as a drunk driver so the traffic almost expected all of his wacky maneuvers. Regardless, I vowed not to get back in the car with him as we sat down to dinner.

I ordered spaghetti which was pasta and ketchup. I decided to focus on ice cream for dinner (the ice cream so so creamy here- like frozen whipped crea and I can't get enough). We took one last trip to the beach at night (using the public bus) where we were greeted by tons of rats the size of kittens. It was time to go home and go to sleep. My conclusion on Vizag is definitely the Indian version of Santa Barbara with its quirky charm.

Everything is Happy in Hyderabad

Just wanted to let you know that everything is fine in Hyderabad. Hyderabad is an over 24 hour train ride away from Mumbai so I am definitely far removed from the chaos. It is like being in California during 9/11- a different state and far far away.

I am not afraid that this situation will get out of hand and come affect my little world in Hyderabad. First off, Mumbai has been a hot spot for awhile now. We received an email at work about a month ago from the Warden of Mumbai (how scary- a warden!?!) warning about unrest in Mumbai(hence my train phobia from the previous post). Although the warning was not related this attack, it shows that I was already aware that Mumbai was having security issues. It makes me feel safer that I have a good sense of where I should go and where I should not.

So many Indians have died in bomb blasts throughout India the past few months I have been here but there is no word from other nations condemning these attacks and not much media coverage. I feel like we are only focusing on 1% of the terrorism that still exists in our world. We really need to look at all attacks to solve this problem because they are all related. I will step off my soapbox now.

When the first set of attacks during my stay went off, I asked my coworkers how they dealt with living in a country where there are bombings. One coworker told me that you can't let fear run your life. She told me that what is meant to be will happen. I have taken on this state of mind a little bit more. There is no use living a life if you are afraid the entire time.

Although I am putting my trust and faith that I will come home to once again pay high rent and eat Mexican food, I am also actively making this happen by not taking risks in my travels. I will continue to avoid Mumbai and any other place that wardens advise I not visit. I will not go into busy markets and I will always be sure I am traveling with the appropriate people. I will also continue to plan escape routes through trains haha. My last travel plans are in the northern wilderness and the relaxed (and conflict free) south. I am sure there will be no issues there.

I am more worried about Thailand... I hope that settles before I head there for Christmas.

xoxo

First Overnight Train Ride

I left work on Friday off for my trip to Vizag with my co-worker Ritu and her roommates. All I knew about it before we got there was that it was a beach town, it is pronounced like Vizack, and that it was not in any of my guide books. We took off on a sleeper train that would take 12 hours to arrive. Before I left, people at work did not paint a pretty picture of these sleeper trains. They warned that they are cramped (as evidenced by the picture to the right), there are bugs everywhere, and that they are extremely dirty. I was supposed to bring plenty of disinfectant and a sheet to cover the bug ridden seat. They also warned me to keep my bags close and to sleep away from the hall so nobody saw my light hair. I was a little nervous but excited to get out of town.

In addition to the cleanliness fears, I also was worried about general safety on the train. I had just read that day at work of a couple who worked for Google India that been on a similar sleeper train that died when the train caught fire in the middle of the night and they were unable to escape. I was lucky enough to be sleeping right by the emergency window and had practiced opening the bars. I also noticed an emergency chain that I could pull in an emergency that would stop the train. In addition to bringing yourself to safety, you get 5,000 Rupees ($100) for your bravery. Apparently it takes about 5 Indian men (aka a person of my size) to pull this chain so it is kind of a big deal. I set up a plan that I would pull the chain and then wait 20 seconds for the train to stop (I consulted with the group and they agreed that was a reasonable time to safely jump from a train) and then jump feet first out of the train (I thought feet first would be better than head first). I was all set to get a good night sleep.

We sat on the train just chatting. I was very tired and soon found it was time to go to bed. I tried to lay my bag next to me so that I could put my arms around it and basically snuggle with it all night. Lets just say I have had better snuggle experiences. I tossed and turned all night. My head even hurt laying there. I luckily was sleeping by the window so there was a fresh breeze flowing on me. I also put my Purel pump right by my head just in case I touched a wall or something.
I awoke in the middle of the night to a numb arm and began my switching of positions. I put the bag at the foot of the bed and rested my food on it (second position to the right). It was then that my childhood imagination took hold.

I had received a warning email from the office that bandits in Mumbai (far from where I was) were hijacking trains and robbing people. So I when I woke up in the middle of the night with my numb arm and heard the train slow, I got worried. As it became more and more clear that the train was coming to a complete stop, I felt my "cat hearing ears" perk out from my head. I could hear grass blowing in the background and the usual smalls of burning garbage and filth of a train station were nowhere to be smelled. I knew we had to be in the middle of nowhere. I then heard foot steps outside my window in gravel. I also heard what sounded like the beeping of a walky talky, or maybe a bomb? "It's the badits!" I thought to myself.

I covered up my light hair and grasped my wallet tight. Then I heard a grumbling sound and what sounded like a huge explosion going off far away. The noise quickly got louder. My adrenalin spiked and I was ready to open the window and bolt. Just then I realized that the terrifying noise was just a train passing us. Our train started up again as I laughed at myself. We stopped many times that night. I didn't realize that trains make so many stops on their way to the final destination. I thought they were like airplanes.

I awoke from the sleep nowhere near rested. I ate some potato chips (that is like hash browns, right?) and a blueberry muffin I had inadvertently slept on the night before that was in my pocket. Although an interesting sleep, I felt so dirty and tired after. I was not in a great mood headed to Vizag. We still had several hours to Vizag. I got excited as I looked out the window. Overnight I had been transported from Hyderabad and its dust to a more tropical landscape. There were palm trees with coconuts busting from the center and what looked like rice fields (something green and lush anyway). I was feeling a little bit better as our train stopped at the Vizag station.

Times of India:Even Tigers are Veg

I was reading in the newspaper about the tigers at the Kamla Nehru Zoo. They are normal tigers apart from the fact that these tigers become vegetarians once a week. While this could be seen as a literal interpretation of the Hindi proverb "Sher bhi kabhi ghaas khata ahi kya?" ("All carnivores eat grass every week"), there are actually good reasons behind the forced vegetarianism.

Zoo keepers claim that by eating only grass for a day, the tiger's digestive systems is cleansed. Not to worry folks, they close the zoo on days that they don't feed the tigers meat (to prevent them from looking for sources of food elsewhere?). I think this is just a cover up for budget cuts. Damn recession is even hurting the tigers.

This Land is Our Land

So, Thursday afternoons can get a little tedious at work after some energy cookies (don't ask, not sure what they are) and two dixie cups (largest size cup here) of green tea. I began humming "This Land is Your Land..." My coworker turned to me and said "Oh! I love this song!"

I asked her why she loved one of America's national songs and she said that it was an Indian song. Well apparently, India has a version too. It goes:

This land is your land, this land is my land,
From the Himalaya, down to Cape Comorin.
From Bombay City to Old Calcutta -
This land is made for you and me.

Well, now we are both deleriously singing our versions. By the way, I confirmed it is really American though.

California Dreaming

Today I attempted to play out my normal California routine here in Hyderabad. After reflecting on the day, I have further realized just how much your location controls your life.

I woke up around 6 this morning, as I usually do in SF, to make it to work for an early morning meeting. Although getting ready in the morning was no different from home, the differences began as I walked to work. Each morning I leave for my shuttle in SF, I walk past the mansions of Cow Hallow, get a view of the bay, and most times, freeze my butt off. In India, I only have a two block walk to work in the heat and along the beach. I guess I am using the word beach liberally. This beach consists of a rancid puddle of filth and water left over form the rain three days ago (India does not have drains). Due to the lack of said drains, the puddle has extended into the road so I am walking along its muddy banks as close to the water as possible to avoid being killed by a bus or rickshaw. I really hate the cold and I have not been hit yet, so in the battle of commute, I give India a point.

For breakfast, my sprouted wheat toast and organic crushed peanut butter has been replaced by white sliced bread and creamy Skippy. This breaks my heart because if I am going to eat corn syrup and hydrogenated oil that is flavored like peanuts, I at least want it to be crunchy and of course Jiff! Point California.

The work day is no different from the typical work day in Mountain View. Talk of annoying CSRs, Gossip Girl, and how tired we are fills the day. In place of snack attack, there is tea, which is actually steamed whole milk with two tea bags in a dixie cup. This one is a tie.

After work, I decided to go to yoga. I was really excited because the teacher mastered in yoga in college and he is from India, so he has to be inspirational and amazing. Well, I was wrong. This was speed yoga. Each asana was done SO fast. He actually yelled at us to go faster. He also would count out loud while we did moves and made us rest for like 30 seconds in between each stretch we completed.

He would tell us to do a new move then yell "Come on!" "Faster!!!". At home yoga is smooth and relaxing as it strengthens and stretches your muscles. Here I am lucky I did not pull anything. Another completely annoying part was how he corrected our poses. At home, the teacher will carefully alters your hip and ask you if you feel the difference. Here he yells "NO! You were supposed to put your hands together before you touched your toes!"

Even in the last part of the practice where you can just lay there and relax he made me move my feet so my toes didn't point out to the side. He said "You have to relax in this formation". I don't think a command and relax really work together! I prefer my teacher at home who tells me to listen to my body and do whatever it tells me. Well my body tells me I like my feet to lean outwards when I lay on my back. They don't appreciate sticking straight up like the wicked witch if the east. For the yoga, two points California for the win.

I don't think I will try to live out my old life here. The days I am India Molly are the most successful. Although I did finish tonight off with some decent Mexican food!!! No American cheese, tortilla chips, and good refried beans. Yay!

Times of India: Be Thankful For CHP

This is a letter someone wrote to the editor about their frustration with the police’s lack of regulating traffic violations. We generally complain when we get tickets for lame things like rolling through a stop sign or driving at 80 mph. Well you should be thankful for that ticket because it means CHP is doing their job. Here is the result of a lenient traffic police officer:

"Recently, I witnessed an incident of traffic police apathy... I noticed a very bug car driven by a boy aged around 8 years old... Traffic police standing there was a mute spectator and did not do anything about it."

Can you imagine a place where 8 year olds can freely drive trucks around! That's crazy Indian traffic for you!

India Sneetches

I was mentioning to my coworkers that I wanted to cook them a modern day Thanksgiving dinner. Instead of a pilgrim making a feast for the Indians, I will be an expat making a feast for the real Indians. My other expat coworker said, yes, for the Indians that should be thankful Columbus never found them. We explained the dismal fate of our Indians in North American and in doing so learned there are similar groups in India.

The caste system has evolved into a system in India where the people at the bottom, called BCs (Backwards Cultures) are on reservations away from FCs (Forward Cultures). Colleges save 30% of their spots for the BCs and give them scholarships etc. The special treatment even extends into the work world where a similar quota is saved for jobs in all public companies.  One FC girl said she wishes she as a BC for the advantages they get. She claimed that you can't tell an FC from a BC at school or work.  

I almost feel like the BCs are being paid off to continue being called a Backwards Culture. Can you imagine if we called any group that in the US? I say, as long as they are called BCs, they should get some education and jobs so they one day have inspiring leaders to lead the BCs in a movement to not to be called Backwards. 

FCs are Sneetches with stars upon thars...

Times of India: Juliet Not Romeo

Through reading the newspaper in India, I have come across some interesting articles. I think you all might enjoy hearing about the best ones I find each week so you can see what is going on in the news here!

One snippet I read today was about a 24 year old girl who works for IBM who killed herself this weekend. The letter she left behind said that she killed herself because she did not want to marry the man she was arranged to wed. This story is so sad for the girl, who had no say in her personal life, and for the man she was to marry- can you imagine someone killing themselves at the thought of spending the rest of their life with you?

I asked around to see if arranged marriage was still common. Considering the woman worked for IBM, I assumed that the educated would not be part of this archaic institution. From what I got from others, there is some dating to marriage, but there are still a great deal of arranged marriages. They are not as dramatic as in the past though. Basically, the families interview each other and inspect their future child in law. If they agree it will be a good match, they arrange to get married. This means many couples only meet once before the wedding. This can lead to problems, like the IBM girl, and in future divorce.

I heard of one case where the man and woman met once and compared stats and family history and decided they would wed. Once married, he found out she suffered from a bad case of acne where she had large soars on her face ever so often. He didn't see them when they first met. Now he is demanding a divorce because of her skin condition. Talk about a blow to your self esteem. 

At first, thinking about arranged marriages sounded kind of nice. Skipping all the complicated dating American 20 somethings go through and just settle down sounded like a refreshing existence. After hearing these stories though, it looks like not dating and just marrying can create the chance for deeper pain and more serious problems than dating could ever stir up.  So next time someone goes on a bad date, remind them to be thankful it is a bad date and not a bad marriage. 

They Use the Word Cheddar Liberally...

Now that I have been in India for over a month, I have been missing Mexican food intensely. After much reflection, I realized that I don't think I have gone without Mexican food for this long in my recent life. At UCSB, I had the best Mexican food literally next door at El Sitio with their incredible veggie burritos that featured creamy refried beans, garlicy tomatoes, zucchini, and caramelized onions all wrapped in a homemade flour tortilla then grilled. I also had Freebirds down the street where I could custom make nachos. I had Super Cucas buttery cheese quesadillas at the Bill's Bus drop off. Even at Google, I had the not incredible but still decent Andale. Here there is no Mexican food here. Nothing remotely similar between curry and an enchilada.

I heard that there was a Mexican food place in a nearby hotel and got a group together with the decoy that I wanted a Margarita night. I didn't expect to find Mexican food as good as the average joint in LA or SD but I expected to have my cravings met. I was wrong. Instead of describing the meal, I will give you a translation charge from Mexican to Hindi:

• Tortilla Chips = Triangle Won Tons
• Burrito= The size of spring rolls and displayed like three spring rolls wrapped in mooshoo pork pancakes
• Cheddar Cheese= American cheese
• Sour Cream = Yogurt

They did have an amazing pineapple and cinnamon margarita though. I will go back and try my luck with the tacos, they had no cheese and were actually made of corn tortillas. When I arrive from the airport I am going to get Mexican food, even if it is 1 am and Taco Bell is my only option. It has escalated to that point.

Pedicure

I got a pedicure this week. This was not like the average pedicure I get in SF. First off, men are the ones who usually perform pedicures in India. This is because they are the only ones strong enough to scrub all of the caloused and dead skin off of your feet. Because they are so dedicated to smooth your soles, they take almost an hour to complete a pedicure! Another difference is that they don't have the usual gossip magazines, they have flat screen tvs you get to watch. I learned about the ruins of Syria while getting my toes polished. Well worth it. 

Delhi

After about 10 hours in the car to and from Agra I was exausted. The bumpy roads, shocking views of people living in extreme poverty, and pollution that seeped into our car made me physically ill when we got home. Needless to say, I needed a relaxing trip to Delhi. 

We went to Lodi Park (Delhi's Green lung) first. It is similar to Central Park but is more Indian

 in its vegetation. With palm trees and tropic flowers, it was one of the prettiest places I visited yet. In the middle of the park there were two temples that looked like ruins from South America (pictured right). As India does not have the funds to maintain all of their ancient artifacts, these sit open to the public. You can explore inside and even climb on the roof of some. They are almost magical in how forgotten and unasuming they are. How incredible would it be if we had ruins in our parks? 

Apart from the beautiful green scenery The other thing I noticed was that there were TONS of couples sitting around the park. In the first scenes of affection I have seen being here in India between a man and a woman. Men here are very affectionate with one another. They hold 

hands and put their arms around each other as they walk. It seems odd in a country we would consider to be more religious than America that men would be able tobe affectionate but couples can't even hold hands. There were couples in this park hiden among trees and behind bushes. Their colorful outfits give them away though (seen left). After strolling out of the park I got some ice cream from a vendor. With all the couples kissing and the pretty scenery, I felt like I was in Paris. Sigh...

We went to the Gandhi Memorial Museum next. This is the site where Gandhi was assasinated. It is a very modest tribute to Gandhi- unassuming and no entrance fee. You begin the tour where Gandhi left his bedroom window for his daily prayer. Cement foot print molds lead you down the path to where he sat to hold prayer his last prayer before being assasinated (pictured right).

Along the path there are inspirational quotes from Gandhi. Everything this man said was gold! We saw his room he spent his last 144 days and then saw his belongings he left behind- about 9 things. He surely is an inspirational figure and shows us all how one person can make a difference in the world.

We finally went for lunch. Our driver recommended the Imperial hotel. We walked into the hotel and I felt like I was in the Belagio in Las Vegas. The air was scented with Jasimin. It was bright and beautifully decorated. I read in my guide book tht it was one of the nicest hotels in all of Asia- I believe it. We ate some italian food- the first I have had since coming here. I was delighted to eat a salad with olive oil and balsamic vinegar (the salad bar at work does not really use much lettus and offers you ketchup, mayo, and thousand island as your dressing choices). We also had a basket of fresh baked breads and olive oil. I had also not had olive oil in FOREVER, I missed the rich buttery taste of a quality olive oil so much. My good cholestoral thanked me as most foods here are cooked in ghee (melted butter). I got some pasta with pesto and tomato sauce on it. I really was in heaven. After my brush with Delhi belly the night before and a week of feeling ill, I could not eat much but in 

the room that smelled like Jasimine as I held the tast of olive oil and garlic in my mouth I was so 

happy.

We left new Delhi and went to old Delhi. I was back in the mobs of people in India. The streets were crowded with vendors selling books. Bomb blasts had frequented this area so I did not want to get out of our car and shop around. We went to the Red Fort. This fort is significant because it was the first place that the Indian flag was raised after their independence in 1948. It was in ruins too but showed where the leaders of the land used to allow the public to view them and would meet with advisors. With these forts, it is almost like they are ship wrecks under water- still preserved but you have to use your imagination to fill in the broken wall and return the jewels the Persians looted (you can see the jewlels that were popped out of the wall at the fort- a floral design that no longer has the stones that gave it its color). 

By the time we got home, dinner was ready. and my throat was already soar. The pollution is terrible here. The next morning I woke up to plugged ears and a swollen throat. Go Green!

Agra

Agra is where the Taj Mahal was built. It is about a 3 hour car drive from Delhi. We got a personal driver to take us there and pick up a tour guide to show us around the Taj. The ride to Agra took a little bit longer on the crowded and bumpy streets there. I saw more poverty than I expected. More people living in straw and mud huts or under those blue tarps was a shock to see. When we stopped women would bang on our windows and press their baby who had dried tear drops under their eyes to the window begging for money. Your compassion is watered down by fear of how shocking they look. If you do pay them, they swarm your car. Our driver bought something from a child and dozens came out to sell him things he finally had to yell at them and almost slam them in the car to get away. I made the mistake of taking a picture of a monkey as we waited to cross the state border (exibit A to your left). The owner was all smiles and got the daddy monkey to flip and the mommy monkey holding her baby to look towards me. The monkeys looked like little slaves that had chains around their necks. The man then wanted his money. I didn't have change for him and he started banging on our car and yelling at us. The driver finally ponied up the cash. Scary.

No cars are allowed near the Taj Mahal for a half a mile or so because they don't want the pollution to damage it. I could see this being true. People burn their trash all day and this part of India smells like a chemical fire. I was worried by the snow white skies and milky air that the Taj Mahal would blend in the background. Luckily by removing the cars around it, when we arrived at the site of the Taj the skies were baby blue. The Taj Mahal can't be seen from the street. You go up to a gate where foreigners pay like 10x as much to see the thing- almost $16. We walked in and there is just a court yard that looks like USC's campus. There is one bobbins or turrets, not shure their propper name, at the top of the gate in front of the Taj for every year it took to build it- 22. As we walk through the gate, you get your first look at the Taj mahal (picture of my first look to the left). It looks like a painting and any other picture you have seen of it. Definitely one of the top 10 things I have seen in this world. 

The Taj Mahal is not all white like it appears from far away (as seen below). It is made out of an irridescent marble that glows a different temperature depending on the time of day. There are small flowers carved into the buidling. Each petal and leaf is a precious stone. The people that built the Taj had a secret cement recipe to make sure the stones would never fall out. The secret has been passed down generation to generation. The people that work to keep the Taj Mahal as incredible as it is are the grandsons of the original workers. Talk about job security!

Here are some fun facts about the Taj Mahal's structure:

• The four pillars around the Taj are 92 degrees from the ground so they are slightly slanted away from the Taj Mahal. Just in case there was an earthquake, they did not want the pillars to fall on it
• The Taj Mahal has arabic writing on the huge doorway. To make the script look the same all around the doorway, the writing on top us much large than the writing on the bottom. 
• To go inside the Taj and up on the platform, you have to take off your shoes. They give you booties at the front to put over them. 
• Inside there is nothing but the tomb of Shah Jahal's wife. She is directly in the center, he is at the side of her. 

The history of the Taj is interesting. Mughal Emperor Shah Jahan build it for his dead wife Mumtaz Mahal (pictured right). He loved her the best of all of his wives as she had been pregnant non stop for 19 years before she died. On her deathbed, she only had a few requests:

1. Love our children equally
2. Never get married again (this meant he could keep his other wives he already had)
3. Build something that represents my beauty

Our tour guide mentioned that this is so special because a 

boyfriend would build the Taj Mahal for his girl, but a husband would never show this kind of romantic gesture for his wife. He tried to build a black Taj Mahal for himself out of a rare stone that is only in Agra that is puprle and black and when the sunlight hits it, stars beams coem off it. This was to go across the way from his wife's tomb and they were going to connect by bridge. He never got it build because his third son of seven children decided his father was wasting funds in building the black Taj and killed his older borthers, put his father under house arrest and took over as ruler.  The for that Shah Jahal was led captive  looks out over Agra where each day he could see the Taj Mahal. 

Rumor has it that if you see the Taj when you are not looking for it while in Agra, you are destined to return. Due to the pollution I did not see it again, but I know i will return when my Dad comes to visit in December.

Hot Breakfast

I have been getting my whole grain fix while in India by eating Wheaties for breakfast. The problem is, the only milk they have is whole which I find funny because they think peanut butter is too fattening to eat. I am used to lactose free and fat free milk so basically eating cream over cereal is not my ideal breakfast. Yesterday morning, I saw a guy pumping something out of a canteen that was placed by the pitcher of milk. This white substance looked a little bit more watery that the thick white whole milk. I assumed it might be soy milk. This morning I opted for the soy milk. As I squirted it over my cereal I saw steam coming out. I assumed it might be because it is condensed in canteen and super cold. I pumped again and more steam. This time I felt the bowl heat up in my hand. I finally put my finger in my cereal and realized that it was hot milk. I just poured hot milk all over my cereal- this is way worse than Europe's room temperature milk! I am open to new things and don't want to waste food, especially in India, so I decided I would try it. I put a little cane sugar on top and dug in.

It was actually not too bad. It got a little mushy but it was almost like oatmeal but with a different flavor. Reflecting on the cereal set up, I think the hot milk is meant for the dry t placed by the side of the cereals. Then again, the guy from yesterday put it on his coco puffs. I think I will do the hot cereal thing again- I bet hot Cinnamon Toast Crunch would be amazing!

For My Shopaholics

So I went to the local market which is like Broadway Plaza but with tents. It is basically an outdoor mall. It is really pretty inside with a courtyard and salmon tiles. I got to see an amazing assortment of goodies. I bought some Indian tunics with sequins and beads hand embroidered on them (. I also found an amazing silk scarf for only $4. The pashminas are to die for. They make Nordstrom brand look cheap! For those of you interested leave your pashmina order by commenting on the post. They have so many colors in addition to Indian patters (which is basically floral and paisley combined). will be back to buy a ton of them, I just have to choose the colors and patterns I want, and how much I want to barter for them! Oh, and did I mention everything is $10 or less?!?

After we were done we came outside the market and a little boy that ould barely walk and came up and started begging. He kept making the hand signal for food. We bought him an ice cream. I wanted to take him home. He was so cute, but he kept following us near the street and I was afraid he was going to get hit. finally caught a ride in a rickshaw. I got in this tiny yellow rickshaw with two other co-workers. Rickshaws are basically three wheel motor cycles. The driver does not have a wheel but a handlebar like a bike. It is then covered in a black cloth. My first bad smells of India were experienced were in this tiny rickshaw. The cost of the ride was only $.15 though, so I can't complane.

Two Weeks in India

n celebration of my past two weeks in India, I have thought of 14 things I have seen or learned since being here that have not made it into any posts yet:

1. India does not smell as bad as people warned me. Spain and parts of SF smell worse. Sometimes in the morning, India smells like a forest fire because people burn their trash. At night, it sometimes it smells like a pumpkin burning, perhaps predicting India's Cinderella story? The other times it just smells like a polluted city.
   
2. State level politicians can be corrupt. Some have people bow at their feet.
   
3. People celebrate Christmas.
4. Women try to go on diets. We have the same lunch conversations as I did at Google in Mountain View- "I shouldn't be eating this but..."
5. They drive on the left hand side of the road. I think it is more comfortable there.
6. There is no such thing as public education. You have to pay for private school, which is expensive- one school costs $25K per year. When you consider what the average salary in India $under $1,000, it makes you see how unattainable education is.
   
7. Much like America, the north and the south have different cultures.
   
8. The power randomly goes out for a few seconds at least once a day.
   
9. People nod their heads 'no' when they are agreeing with you.
   
10. They play music in the Google bathroom (elevator music, everything from Fiddler on the Roof to the Bangles)
11. They eat anise seeds covered in sugar after eating to freshen their breath and help digestion
12. The new airport in Hyderabad puts about a 70% tax on your plane tickets to and from the airport to fund it.
13. They complain that their country needs education so they will no longer have uninformed voters and people that vote for celebrities. I told them that literacy has nothing to do with it. It is reading comprehension. We have the same issue in the US.
    
14. They label foods with green dots if they are vegetarian (no eggs). Non veg items get a red dot. Red pops up in random places like on Mars bars (Mily Way) because they have egg in them.
    

Looking For the Moon

I learned about my first hundu ritual: Karwa Chauth. Each year women fast the entire day on Karwa Chauth for their husband's long life. On this day the women wear Saris and can't eat or drink until they see the moon. Once the moon does appear they look at it through a sieve and then turn and look at their husband's face through the sieve. He then gives his wife her first bit of food for the day. This year the moon was not scheduled to come out until 9:30pm and it was cloudy so women had to stay hungry and thirsty for much of the day.

The women at Google who participated in this could be picked out because on their beautiful Saris. These women must love their husbands to go without food at Google! A member of a neighboring team Shweti, looked spectacular in her maroon sari and gold bangles. She said each year her husband makes her dinner on Karwa Chauth and is always looking for the moon so she can enjoy the meal. Shweti is an independent and intelligent woman and before coming here, I could not imagine someone like her fasting for the long life of her husband. Now I see it almost as a romantic jesture. I think this is a sweet tradition. Unmarried women can also participate to ensure the long life of their future husband and to find a wonderful husband.

I learned a little bit about marriage with all the talk of this Karwa Chauth. Like instead of wedding rings, women wear bindis to show that they are married. In the south, where I am, they wear toe rings and never show their wrists. I also learned that after 7 years of marriage you can't file for a divorce for abuse. I think this is dangerous, considering the 7 year itch is probably when some abuse starts. I also learned that this rule does not just hurt women potentially, but men. I guess that men being abused in relationships is not unheard of in India.

Hole in the Wall

Our team went for lunch at a little spot not far from the office that they described as having delicious food and being quite inconspicuous from the outside. Here we would call it a hole in the wall. When our car arrived at the place I first noticed a group of goats outside and the most adorable baby goat I had ever seen (maybe only baby goat I have seen). W I pointed it out my coworker said that they are going to be part of the mutton curry. Sad, but at least the place has fresh ingredients. I got out of the car to see the place in its entirety. It was basically a room with a side patio that had an awning over it. It looked literally like a hole in the wall and smelled like a petting zoo. We walked in and things were very rustic. Simple benches and tables filled the room which was lined with a plastic barrier. I was a little scared to see the kitchen right there on the patio among the stench. but we got nearer to the cooks the savory aroma of spices served as an air freshener for the restaurant. It smelled too good to be fearful of the food.

There was no menu and there were only a few options to choose from. We each got a silver platter with some sauces on it. I have no idea of what was in the sauce but I tried them anyway. That is the best part of India- they respect vegetarians by never letting meat slip into your dish and they don't eat strange parts of animals. One was yellow and oddly sweet, spicy, and sour. Another was a gray sauce that was amazing but it caused my lips to catch on fire and it that took me three glasses of water to extinguish the sensation.

The cook then came out with a HUGE bowl full of rice. Football team pasta feed big. He scooped heaps of rice on each of our plates. The rice was cooked with the husk on so it was more like brown rice. I noticed I had no silverware as everyone began to use their hands to mold their rice like they were prepping mashed potatoes for a gravy volcano. The man then came back with a bucket of something yellow and scooped it out onto each of our plates. Everyone began mixing the rice and sauce together with their hands and digging in. I chickened out and got a spoon.

The food really was delicious. The man would come back around and scoop more rice and sauce on our plate- it was like an all you can eat buffet. It was a trip to see my team use their hands to eat. They said that I got out of it this time but next time, I was going to have to use my hands. They said the food tastes so much better when you do. So far, I have been completely won over by Indian food from India so I believe them. Once I find a place I can get a manicure, I will be back scooping food up with my fingers.

This dining experience made me realize that not only do I enjoy trying new foods but different dining experiences. It is rare that you get to experience a new ways of eating and serving food. I look forward to more experiences like this one.

Bollynewz.com

Work has not been the same without my fresh updates from Perezhilton.com. I used to check on his blog when things were slow or I needed a break. Here, I go through the entire postings from the night before, leaving myself bored. To make up for this, I have decided to learn more about Bollywood and have started going to Bollynewz.com.

Thanks to my fabulous co-workers that put up with all of my questions I have learned a little bit about the Bollywood scene. Many families are involved in acting. One family has two brothers who are actors, and their wives are acresses and I think their dad was an actor. I guess we have that in America too. This is the Kahn family. I began getting confused because it seemed like all of the actors were brothers in the Kahn family. I learned that Kahn is the most common Muslim name. It turns out most of the actors in Bollywood are Muslims. When I asked why this is so, I learned that Muslims are better looking and better actors. I find this pretty interesting considering the stigmas associated with being Muslim in America. Check it out sometime.

On a side note, I learned that many of the actresses actually have temples that people worship them. It is like these actors are living gods. I can't wait to watch my first movie!!!

Images of India: 1

अ कमों साईट ओं थे स्ट्रीट: ट्रैफिक एंड चिल्ड्रेन रीडिंग
A common site on the street: traffic and children riding

वूमन स्वीपिंग

Woman Sweeping

First Night Out: Page 3 is the New Page 6

I went out with some co-workers for the first time Wednesday night. Our driver took us about 30 minutes out to an area that had sidewalks and familiar American stores like Levi, Reebok, and Sony (yay Carla!). To get to the club, we had to go inside what looked like a mall and then up to the top floor to the club. As we waited to go in, I found one new addition to the party scene I have never experienced before: the paparazi. Apparently, in Hyderabad, the paparazzi take pictures of people going out and post them on page 3 of the local newspaper (similar to our page 6). It is taboo to be pictured there because everyone in the office will see and apparently judge you. I thought my nerdy side ponytail, cheap H&M jeans, my sister's throwaway top, and an old Gap sweater would prevent any interest but I was mistaken. Being an expert celebrity stalker thanks to PerezHilton.com, I think I avoided the paps quite well. They got tricky by holding the camera down and looking to the side but still trying to snap a shot, but I did not fall for their little game. It is was a strange experience that I could do without in the future. How does Brittany do it?

Once we got inside the club we found it to be pretty empty. It was decorated like any average lounge in SF , so it was very nice and modern. It was 95% men and 5% women (nothing in between haha). Apparently the only way a guy can dance is if he has a girl partner on the floor. Because there were not many girls, the dance floor was empty. Techno was blasting but it was Bollywood style so each song had a choreographed dance that people mimiced from the movie s. Neelima told me that in India, they dance with their shoulders and their hips. This made me realize that at home, we focus so much more on the lower body. I practiced moving both elements at once and failed. I ended up pulling out old Jane Fonda aerobic moves and survived just fine.

One highlight of the night was taking a break from the dance floor to use the restroom. I was greeted by a woman who led me to the appropriate stall, pumped soap for me, got me paper towels, and made sure my top was not tucked into the back of my jeans. She was sweet. I gave her my first tip in India: 50 Rupees (about $1).

Luckily the club closed at midnight cause I was about to fall asleep! Our driver promply swung by to pick us up. What a trooper! Although the club was pretty nice, I would take KT's any day. I feel after the page 3 nonsense that I must end the blog with a xoxo!

First Day of Work

I work up for work at 7 (the time I usually leave my house in SF) and got ready for the two minute walk to the office. Neelima showed me my desk which is much larger than the one I am used to at work (similar to the old one in 1945, tear tear). The office is busy and pretty alive. There are only three people on my team, Neelima, Pearl, and Ritu. This is much different from the 8 or so people I am used to working with in Mountain View (MTV).

The girls on my team are really sweet and we had some fun talking about what it means to be a real vegetarian along with Rajiv, a member of a nearby team. We agreed that real vegetarians don't eat eggs. Rajiv was in MTV last quarter and he thought the vegetarian options in the the bay area were laughable. For example, it does not make sense to even have vegetarian omlets. Americ is no different from countries where chicken is vegetarian! He agreed with me that mushrooms should not be part of a vegetarian's diet, but that is only because we both dislike them. On the topic of vegetarian food, I learned that restaurants here have two kitchens: one for meat and one for vegetarian food prep. This is for religious purposes. I wish all of my preferences were given the same weight as religious preferences here! Supposedly a restaurant can't be competitive unless it has two kitchens.

On the topic of food, the micro kitchens at Google do not disappoint. They are filled with different Euro looking snacks and beverages. The lunch is also great. There is tons of Indian food (with unlimited naan!) and then a pasta, sandwich, and salad bar. So much for losing weight in India. I looked over at a table of guys eating and one literally had a plate of rice that he proceeded to devour! They all had at least half their plates towered with rice- I am guessing Google goes through a scandalous amount each day.It reminded me of quantity of foods I would eat in elementary school. I tried some Indian desserts which include fried dough balls in syrup and a mini turnover. They were pretty good but have nothing on rice krispy treats and cupcakes.

As the day wore on at work, I began to notice some major differences between the MTV office and the one here in Hyderabad. I found that the toilet seats are not heated here. This is a bummer (pun intended). I also noticed something that at first threw me off: burping. Burping here is socially acceptable. I might let one or two out after my diet cokes each day. In my jet lagged delirium I felt like I was on a lilypad in a pond of frogs. This only happens several hours after lunch. I asked Neelima later about this and she said that people in India will not talk about the topic of kissing but they have no issues discussing (and demonstrating) all bodily functions. My opinion: more power to 'em!

Great first day of work!

The Arrival: Great Success

I flew into Hyderabad from Delhi on Kingfisher airlines (yes it is an Indian beer, and yes it is the only Indian airline with 5 stars!). It was GREAT! Amazing amazing Indian food and they gave us pens and as much bottled water as we wanted. I recommend them to anyone who flies in here. Apparently it is owned by the Richard Branson of India, so it is like Virgin. There were gorgeous cumulus clouds all over the sky just like blobs of whipped cream. When we finally got over Hyderabad I was shocked by several things. First off, it is huge! It is just hard core city for miles and miles. Imagine the entire bay area with no bay packed like Civic Center! Also, instead of dark roads underneath the city, it was all red dirt. This might not sound strange but next time you fly you will notice the dark roads.

Finally I landed in Hyderabad after nearly 28 hours of travel. After having overcome the ghetto Delhi airport I knew I could handle Hyderabad's, which looks quite modern from the outside. It was clean and bright on the inside with huge pictures of beautiful things to see in India. When we got downstairs people working for the airline bombarded me to help me get my bags. I really didn't need help but they are very sneaky and forced themselves on me. I know I was supposed to tip them but I was not sure how much so I just avoided tipping them in the end (update: 100 rupee is normal for tips). This made me realize that I do not like to be waited on.

As I left the airport and the heat sunk in. I am sweating SO much. So much more than I usually ever do and I think I am even slightly dehydrated! Who knows what will happen when I am drinking my regular amount of water. The airport landscaping is lush and tropical. There were women on the front lawn in amazing bright outfits irrigating the lawn. They were the first thing that shook me into realizing that I made it to India. As we drove out, there were more colorfully clad people watering by hose and trimming the landscape. It was to notice magenta and electric orange beings scattered through the green bushes and trees.

The drive to my place was about an hour. I saw so many amazing things! Stray dogs, buffalo blocking traffic, and crumbling buildings. What stood out the most was for me was the color! Women are all dressed so bright and the buses and trucks are adorned with flair and colorful paint- similar to something you would see in Puerto Rico. Men are dressed in oxfords despite the heat. Nobody really looks dirty- but everything around them does. It is strange balance. Wires in pillars stick out of the top of almost all buildings as if they are planning on adding on a second level. The weirdest thing I noticed is that there is no pavement in front of stores, just red earth. Nothing looks like a store I would want to go into but never say never!

I finally arrived at my place which is in a gated apartment building with 4 armed guards. It looks like a building nestled by the ball park in SOMA, which made me happy. My flat is very modern. It is two stories and has three bedrooms and 3 bathrooms. I have my own queen sized bed, bathroom, and wooden cabinets to hold the 120 pounds of things I carried with me. I am sharing the flat with a member of my team Neelima, who came over for a quarter a year ago and never came back. I am glad to be living with someone that I know and who can show me around and introduce me to people. My biggest fear is not making friends while I am here. There are about 40 people traveling from Europe and America from Google now so there will be plenty of people to meet.

Someone from Google met at my room and gave me everything I needed from a toothbrush to Pringles and took me over to our office which is a two minute walk away. Google looks just like Google at home so I felt comforted checking it out. I ate some lunch which was delicious. I have so much trust in Google that I ate some raw vegetables my first day- some people visiting NEVER eat them. I guess getting sick from the water in Spain and Arizona have prepped me because it has been almost 24 hours since ingesting them and I have yet to get ill. I could have gotten lucky so I am going to avoid them as best I can. Who can say no to fresh tomatoes though?

Overall I am excited for what is to come. I hope to master the art of wearing clothing that covers most of my body despite walking in humid heat. I also hope that I avoid getting deathly ill from the food/water here. My first day was a great so hopefully things keep getting better.