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!