We live on Lombard near the curvy party so many tourists Mecca to. Often Saturdays and Sundays are spent watching the show that is tourists lining up to drive down Lombard. A couple things are comical here – first, cars often line up down blocks crossing Van Ness and then some to make it over the windy part.
If they went one block over they’d be at the top of Lombard in minutes, not hours. Second, it’s always entertaining seeing those who rented convertibles and are shivering their entire way up the hill as the SF/CA weather was not what they expected.
Last weekend we were playing the game of “watch the lineup” and were particularly entertained by a man in a belly shirt dancing up the middle of the street. One weekend we’d like to open a Lemon-Aide stand at the bottom of the hill or offer Polaroid photos capturing the city views. Entrepreneurship at it’s finest.
Saturday, March 31, 2007
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Looking through you
When we’re kids our mother’s say “look at me when I talk to you.” My old boss analogized this term to pertain to the workplace describing the importance of eye contact. More people need to remember this advice. There are three kinds of looking through (or “throughlook”).
These are:
1) I’m better than you and therefore don’t see you
a. This kind is often seen in first class on airplanes, wealthy areas, and the financial district in San Francisco. People are so important, or think they are anyhow, that they don’t see those around them who are ‘beneath them.’ This same concept exists in India where people don’t even see those in lower castes.
2) I’m looking at me, how can I look at you?
a. People who ask “how are you” and before you have a chance to answer start talking about their most recent business deal or purchase are looking within. Their eyes may rest on another – but this is only to get the other person’s attention so they can share their very important life and ideas.
3) Free love
a. This glazed over stare is usually found in the Tenderloin or on “hot” street corners. Daniel and I experience this stare daily while driving home while trying to dodge the people darting into the street…the people dodging life by escaping it.
These are:
1) I’m better than you and therefore don’t see you
a. This kind is often seen in first class on airplanes, wealthy areas, and the financial district in San Francisco. People are so important, or think they are anyhow, that they don’t see those around them who are ‘beneath them.’ This same concept exists in India where people don’t even see those in lower castes.
2) I’m looking at me, how can I look at you?
a. People who ask “how are you” and before you have a chance to answer start talking about their most recent business deal or purchase are looking within. Their eyes may rest on another – but this is only to get the other person’s attention so they can share their very important life and ideas.
3) Free love
a. This glazed over stare is usually found in the Tenderloin or on “hot” street corners. Daniel and I experience this stare daily while driving home while trying to dodge the people darting into the street…the people dodging life by escaping it.
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Never a dull moment
Last weekend we went to wedding # 863 of the year. We met Ryan in Alemeda and then quickly arrived at the Oakland airport to fly off to Oregon. After smoothly checking in and boarding the plane we sat. And sat. And finally the plane started backing up…immediately to stop again as a black SUV pulled up. Ryan, Matt, and I were pressed up against the window as, in all our years of travel, we’ve never seen an SUV pull up just under our plane. First two dogs hopped out of the car, then 4 police, then 3 other police cars pulled up. Exciting! We thought all scrambling for our camera phones.
An hour later it wasn’t so exciting. We were asked to de-board and stand on the tarmac while the dogs smelled all of the passengers. Then, “to make us more comfortable” 3 busses pulled up and scooted us off to an enclosed building where we had to wait until the plane was cleared. Bomb threat…no bomb, though – thank goodness! After all the excitement trying to get a flight from Oakland to Seattle (to catch our transfer to Oregon – odd, I know, considering geography) we made it to Seattle and ran straight to the next gate. Minutes later it took off – phew! Finally, an hour later and a seemingly uneventful flight, we landed and de-boarded. Matt was the first to exclaim, “wow, the Redmond airport is huge!” Then Ryan was in awe at how such a small town could have such a big airport. Finally, the three of us looked up to see a sign welcoming us to Eugene. Oh boy – the excitement was continuing.
After running back onto the tarmac and onto our plane we made it to Redmond. Arriving we were relieved and couldn’t wait to fancy up and get to Brooke’s rehearsal dessert and slideshow. Just a quick wait to get our luggage and we’d be off. Waiting…waiting…waiting. They lost our bags. Seriously, careless easy travel doesn’t exist anymore.
The wedding
Brooke’s family is from Alturas and Ames’ from Alaska. Seriously, you couldn’t find two nicer people or families. Both Brooke and Ames were beautiful and both obviously in love. The ceremony was quick and the dancing prolonged – my kind of event. Catching up with old roommates and friends was great and seeing Brooke and Ames so thrilled to share their lives even better.
The return
Flying back to Oakland was much less eventful than our departure. Leaving Oregon was a bit of a letdown as, although San Francisco still owns my heart, Bend was calming.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Simile
San Francisco is like a yin yang ... The epitomy of an ism. Good and bad, odd and "normal," bright and dark - all swirled together with a dot of each in the middle. This morning the city was dark, cloaked with a spitting kind of rain. Driving home the sun was shining (subsiquently, every excuse for not going for a run went out the window).
It's Tuesday, so that means taco night at Nicks (our resident taco shop by day and early evening and club by late evening and early morning). To keep with the spirit of the swirled city, I ordered a mixed drink – good (juice) with bad (tequila) swirled together.
A yin yang day.
It's Tuesday, so that means taco night at Nicks (our resident taco shop by day and early evening and club by late evening and early morning). To keep with the spirit of the swirled city, I ordered a mixed drink – good (juice) with bad (tequila) swirled together.
A yin yang day.
Sunday, March 18, 2007
House dreams
Matt and I can’t afford a condo yet but it’s still fun to dream. Also, looking is good motivation to put those pennies and dollars in the bank instead of in yet another shoe investment. San Francisco has a seemingly endless supply of open houses on weekends so there is no end to the dreams.
On Sunday we went to two in our neighborhood. First stop, a two bedroom on Chestnut St(Russian Hill side of course). The condo was much bigger than our apartment and was obviously the victim of a buy ‘n flip. There were new counters and cabinets in the kitchen. Unfortunately, I think in someone’s effort to beautify, they replaced historical fixtures with inexpensive wood and plastic throwing charm out the window.
Stop two brought us to an open house on Greenwich. Walking in the building made me happy – it screamed San Francisco. Built in the ‘20s, the building had all the charm that brings people to San Francisco and makes them stay. It had a price tag to match (the charm part, not the stay part). “Weighing in” much smaller with only 1 bedroom and large closest the condo became my dream home in under 5minutes. Granite and marble counters, hard wood floors, and wood burning fireplace, and parking – like Christmas and birthdays wrapped in a huge mortgage.
On Sunday we went to two in our neighborhood. First stop, a two bedroom on Chestnut St(Russian Hill side of course). The condo was much bigger than our apartment and was obviously the victim of a buy ‘n flip. There were new counters and cabinets in the kitchen. Unfortunately, I think in someone’s effort to beautify, they replaced historical fixtures with inexpensive wood and plastic throwing charm out the window.
Stop two brought us to an open house on Greenwich. Walking in the building made me happy – it screamed San Francisco. Built in the ‘20s, the building had all the charm that brings people to San Francisco and makes them stay. It had a price tag to match (the charm part, not the stay part). “Weighing in” much smaller with only 1 bedroom and large closest the condo became my dream home in under 5minutes. Granite and marble counters, hard wood floors, and wood burning fireplace, and parking – like Christmas and birthdays wrapped in a huge mortgage.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Lighten up
While I loved India, it feels so good to be back in sunny San Francisco. The weather is unusually good right now with the sun out and just a few clouds. Being back in town I raced to enjoy my favorite jaunts this morning – rising at the ungodly hour of 5am I enjoyed trash TV news for an hour and then headed to Le Boulange for my requisite quiche, coffee, and orange juice. Then, firing up the laptop and more trash news, I learned New York fashion week has made it’s way to San Francisco – yippea! Tonight Ft. Mason is housing a New Yorkian fashion show with stars (stars in my world anyhow) like Naomi and Marc.
In an attempt to happen by one of these named stars, I set out for a wakeup jog through Ft. Mason. Instead of stars I saw swarms of people all in black – it’s funny that fashionistas typical uniform is black. So Mission District.
Sophisticated
My mother, the never ending editor, called about my blog recently. “It’s all shopping,” she commented, “You should try to be more philosophical about life and not spend it away.” So, here’s a shot at a more sophisticated observative entry…
In life we’re trained from a young age to excel – be winners. Starting at a young age we’re put in groups based on how good we are – the “Cheetahs” for good readers in school and the “Kittens” or some other slower animal for those who can’t quite keep up.
During sports season we’re ranked on age, weight, speed, and agility and put in teams accordingly.
Then there’s the dances where the popular crowd are chosen as queens and kings and all the rest of us get to cheer in awe at how they can handle being head of the basketball team while getting straight As and mastering the best beer bong in the school.
College brings a whole new spat of measurement with sororities and fraternities where there are bigger, better parties and competitions.
All the competition bleeds into work in adulthood. There’s the everlasting game of blamestorming as people are quick to point the finger away from themselves when something goes wrong and proudly accept kudos when they’re given. This is a pessimistic view, of course, and there are plenty of people who practice the one-team philosophy and circle-back-pat whenever possible. I think these are the people who played team sports growing up.
On the streets we’re no better – edging to be the first off the line as lights turn green and trying to beat the bus when it pulls out into your lane. Always trying to be first, or get ahead.
We could learn a lot from the India psyche here – where, although traffic is no indicator of the inclusive spirit, everyone seems to have a vested interest in the lives of those around them.
What prompted this philosophizing? This morning when I was walking back home I got stuck behind a group of elementary students. It was funny seeing the pairings of kids as they walked – a small group where a girl kept pushing the boy in front of her leading him to turn and act irritated but blush at the same time, two girls in identical spandex pants and shirts, a group of bookworms all with overloaded backpacks – the list goes on. The one that stood out to me the most, though, was the 9 year old wearing low rider pants and a bright green jacket that read “Don’t Blame The Youth.” How can we, when they learn from watching us?
In an attempt to happen by one of these named stars, I set out for a wakeup jog through Ft. Mason. Instead of stars I saw swarms of people all in black – it’s funny that fashionistas typical uniform is black. So Mission District.
Sophisticated
My mother, the never ending editor, called about my blog recently. “It’s all shopping,” she commented, “You should try to be more philosophical about life and not spend it away.” So, here’s a shot at a more sophisticated observative entry…
In life we’re trained from a young age to excel – be winners. Starting at a young age we’re put in groups based on how good we are – the “Cheetahs” for good readers in school and the “Kittens” or some other slower animal for those who can’t quite keep up.
During sports season we’re ranked on age, weight, speed, and agility and put in teams accordingly.
Then there’s the dances where the popular crowd are chosen as queens and kings and all the rest of us get to cheer in awe at how they can handle being head of the basketball team while getting straight As and mastering the best beer bong in the school.
College brings a whole new spat of measurement with sororities and fraternities where there are bigger, better parties and competitions.
All the competition bleeds into work in adulthood. There’s the everlasting game of blamestorming as people are quick to point the finger away from themselves when something goes wrong and proudly accept kudos when they’re given. This is a pessimistic view, of course, and there are plenty of people who practice the one-team philosophy and circle-back-pat whenever possible. I think these are the people who played team sports growing up.
On the streets we’re no better – edging to be the first off the line as lights turn green and trying to beat the bus when it pulls out into your lane. Always trying to be first, or get ahead.
We could learn a lot from the India psyche here – where, although traffic is no indicator of the inclusive spirit, everyone seems to have a vested interest in the lives of those around them.
What prompted this philosophizing? This morning when I was walking back home I got stuck behind a group of elementary students. It was funny seeing the pairings of kids as they walked – a small group where a girl kept pushing the boy in front of her leading him to turn and act irritated but blush at the same time, two girls in identical spandex pants and shirts, a group of bookworms all with overloaded backpacks – the list goes on. The one that stood out to me the most, though, was the 9 year old wearing low rider pants and a bright green jacket that read “Don’t Blame The Youth.” How can we, when they learn from watching us?
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
20-hours to go
Leaving India was quite a fete. At 11pm I made my way down to checkout and was whisked to the airport in the hotel car. Upon arrival, the car was swarmed – momentarily I felt like a movie star with people clawing at the window and trying to carry my bags. But no, not a movie star, just a white person begging to be asked for spare change. While in India, I mastered the art of “No!” and “Please go.” It’s still hard, though, having a 3-year old child staring up with huge starving eyes and an open palm.
Out of the car I landed in the first of 4 lines to get into the airport. In line people pushed and shoved obviously following the (un)traffic laws on foot. People were cutting and inching forward as best they could to make it that one minute sooner into the door of the airport. The man in line behind me was enjoying a nice game of bumper suitcase with my bag…until I turned to him and politely said, “please stop pushing me – it’s really not nice.” Shocked, he backed away. In the second line I enjoyed one of my favorite isms – hippie man with an Indian print bandana, smelling of patchouli and incense, with a Fendi wallet in his back pocket. Gotta love it.
Finally, after making it through all the lines and check points, I was in and ready for the next 20-hours of travel.
Out of the car I landed in the first of 4 lines to get into the airport. In line people pushed and shoved obviously following the (un)traffic laws on foot. People were cutting and inching forward as best they could to make it that one minute sooner into the door of the airport. The man in line behind me was enjoying a nice game of bumper suitcase with my bag…until I turned to him and politely said, “please stop pushing me – it’s really not nice.” Shocked, he backed away. In the second line I enjoyed one of my favorite isms – hippie man with an Indian print bandana, smelling of patchouli and incense, with a Fendi wallet in his back pocket. Gotta love it.
Finally, after making it through all the lines and check points, I was in and ready for the next 20-hours of travel.
Monday, March 12, 2007
Spa day…why do the things I do
I woke up this morning sick as a dog feeling like an elephant sat on my head. I guess sleeping 3-4 hours a night finally caught up with me...scratch that - trampled, beat me, and left me brain-dead. It’s not a pretty picture.
After having my requisite eggs and fruit (this time with a side of drugs) Salim came to pick me up and we were off to Mumbai. The 3-hour drive flew by this time - Salim is extremely courteous on the road and seems to know everything about India so the ride was like a peaceful tourist transit.
We arrived at Le Maridien just in time for my first of 4 meetings. Today was another interactive marketing vendor meeting day and I again learned "yes, we can do everything! No, we haven't done that before."
Between meetings 3 and 4 I called the front desk to see if there was a pharmacy in-house. Ten minutes later there was a knocking at the door and a man with a briefcase and stethoscope around his neck burst into my room and told me to sit on my bed. He then proceeded to hit my breast and back with the stethoscope - him taking a deep breath with each movement and then moved on to waving a flashlight around in front of my face nodding and uttering "mm hmm. I see" as he waved.
Finally, the whirlwind exam wrapped and Dr. Stranger said, "yes madam, I will fix this" as he wrote out a prescription that filled an entire page. 10-minutes later and a silver packet of drugs arrived.
After the fly-by Dr.s appointment and back-to-back meetings, I decided to explore the hotel. I walked by the pool and various dining areas, and made my way to the in-house spa. I truly did go just to peak, but somehow got sucked into a pedicure and head massage. Why do I do the things I do?...
Three spa people walked me to a room to put on a robe. Then, I was brought to another room where the hair washing chairs were and was told to sit. The pedicure started with a $10 Target looking footbath which was cold and filled with daises. While soaking, the head massage began with a young man running his fingers through my hair and then massaging an oil that smelled like a mix between sugarcane and curry. Ewe.
More foot and head pounding later and then the young man put a large metal wrist guard looking thing on his hand and arm. “This is a vibrator,” he said, “nice vibrator – feels good.” Um, OK, the head massage just took another twist. He proceeded to run the machine over my head and arms leaving my body shaking while my feet were being worked on. Seriously, why do I do the things I do?
Time to explore more – no more spas, no more meetings. I hope I don’t wake bald and fungus footed tomorrow!
After having my requisite eggs and fruit (this time with a side of drugs) Salim came to pick me up and we were off to Mumbai. The 3-hour drive flew by this time - Salim is extremely courteous on the road and seems to know everything about India so the ride was like a peaceful tourist transit.
We arrived at Le Maridien just in time for my first of 4 meetings. Today was another interactive marketing vendor meeting day and I again learned "yes, we can do everything! No, we haven't done that before."
Between meetings 3 and 4 I called the front desk to see if there was a pharmacy in-house. Ten minutes later there was a knocking at the door and a man with a briefcase and stethoscope around his neck burst into my room and told me to sit on my bed. He then proceeded to hit my breast and back with the stethoscope - him taking a deep breath with each movement and then moved on to waving a flashlight around in front of my face nodding and uttering "mm hmm. I see" as he waved.
Finally, the whirlwind exam wrapped and Dr. Stranger said, "yes madam, I will fix this" as he wrote out a prescription that filled an entire page. 10-minutes later and a silver packet of drugs arrived.
After the fly-by Dr.s appointment and back-to-back meetings, I decided to explore the hotel. I walked by the pool and various dining areas, and made my way to the in-house spa. I truly did go just to peak, but somehow got sucked into a pedicure and head massage. Why do I do the things I do?...
Three spa people walked me to a room to put on a robe. Then, I was brought to another room where the hair washing chairs were and was told to sit. The pedicure started with a $10 Target looking footbath which was cold and filled with daises. While soaking, the head massage began with a young man running his fingers through my hair and then massaging an oil that smelled like a mix between sugarcane and curry. Ewe.
More foot and head pounding later and then the young man put a large metal wrist guard looking thing on his hand and arm. “This is a vibrator,” he said, “nice vibrator – feels good.” Um, OK, the head massage just took another twist. He proceeded to run the machine over my head and arms leaving my body shaking while my feet were being worked on. Seriously, why do I do the things I do?
Time to explore more – no more spas, no more meetings. I hope I don’t wake bald and fungus footed tomorrow!
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Yep, still India
11, March 2007
I got to work this morning at 9am – I had gifted myself an extra few hours of sleep. I would have gone longer, but the neighbor started his daily chanting at 9am on the dot – I’ve come to learn he typically does this between 9am and noon. Chant, that is, not wake people up. Not really sure what he’s saying but the melodic shouting is now stuck in my head.
After lazing around I made my way downstairs where Kamul was already perched ready to see if I needed or wanted anything. In rapid succession I took in breakfast, a quick nap, and then I was ready for the day. Last minute shopping, gym, and packing here I came.
Stepping out into the heat was my first friendly reminder that yes, I’m still in India. After 5-minutes walking I was drenched in sweat and dirt. I started making my way up to Abs dodging the requisite motorists and animals and suddenly realized I was not winning the obstacle course this time.
Right foot, left foot, right foot – shit (sorry for the cussing if you’re reading this Grandma)! Walking up the road I landed right in the middle of a pile of you guessed it (don’t need to cuss twice, you get the picture). And no, this isn’t the kind you find in San Francisco. This one was cow plop. Maybe some would say that was a blessing from these holy creatures and having my leg swimming in it would bring me luck, but I sure didn’t feel like it. Odd one out. It is kind of funny, though, and definitely an ism – walking through a relatively commercial area on the way to shopping and being accosted by nature. Finally I made it to the Pyramid – the mini-mall up the road. Inside I made my way through the aisles of gold and diamonds (each stall I passed revealed a sales person who followed me for a few steps past their stall), and up to the clothing section. Here a friendly clerk followed me from rack to rack uttering “you like this madam?” Maybe they work on commission, or maybe it’s just the salesy culture, but it was not helping the cause. Fifty “you like this madam”s later and I found a few winners. At the desk a confused looking clerk wasn’t quite sure what to do with the mix of shirts and jewelry I bought. The bar code worked and each time he clicked it the beeping noise seemed to shock him. We hit trouble when one of the bracelets’ barcodes didn’t work – instead of the cheerful “beap” and “blarech” came out. This led to three other clerks coming over all to stare at the bracelet, then the barcode, then the computer, and back to the bracelets again. By this time a line had formed and other shoppers were getting antsy. Finally the clerk keyed in the code and we were set. One of the shirts was a bit long so I asked for a tailor. Immediately a young man and young girl came running out to assist. The girl held a tape-measure and the man a notebook – not sure why this was a 2-person job, but whatever. They asked how much shorter and I pointed. They asked if any other alterations were needed and I shook my head no (big mistake). After the second question the man started measuring every bit of me while I attempted to say “only the length only the length!” the girl giggling the whole time. I wonder if they understood but just felt like having a bit of fun at the whiteys’ expense… After having to fill out piles of paperwork and not really knowing what was going on, I was handed a slip and told to return in an hour. OK, shopping done, time for the gym. I made my way the next 2-blocks (and 20minutes) up the road to the building housing Abs. Once there I was greeted by the familiar construction tape and dirt which I quickly walked past climbing into the elevator. A man came running after me to push the button to the roof and up we went. Two floors away from the roof he looked at me and said “Abs?” “Yes” I replied. “Oh, that’s closed.” Great… Back to the ground floor and out into the heat I decided to skip the workout and make my way to my new favorite Chinese restaurant for lunch. Today the place was packed with about twice as many patrons as yesterday. I asked for a table for one and immediately three people came over to look at me then walk me to a table. I was guided past the bustling restaurant and into a side area where there was no-one else. 15-tables (yes, I counted, what else are you supposed to do in a restaurant alone with no book) and no-one except me. I didn’t feel different at all. The meal again was great. At the end of lunch I was handed a survey and promptly gave the service and food all 5s with a nice note about the ambiance. The waiter who picked up the survey read it first in front of me (as soon as it was in his hands) and then ran to all the other waiters to show them. Not very discrete and boy am I glad I didn’t write anything bad. 652 isms later and I made it home. Kamul was standing by the front door and looked startled when I walked in. He was even more taken aback that I had left-overs and he didn’t need to cook dinner. I made my way upstairs and am now looking at the piles of clothes and work supplies I have to cram into my suitcase. A new challenge and almost as daunting as trying to cross the street…here goes! Yep, I’m still in India and it’s still…India.
I got to work this morning at 9am – I had gifted myself an extra few hours of sleep. I would have gone longer, but the neighbor started his daily chanting at 9am on the dot – I’ve come to learn he typically does this between 9am and noon. Chant, that is, not wake people up. Not really sure what he’s saying but the melodic shouting is now stuck in my head.
After lazing around I made my way downstairs where Kamul was already perched ready to see if I needed or wanted anything. In rapid succession I took in breakfast, a quick nap, and then I was ready for the day. Last minute shopping, gym, and packing here I came.
Stepping out into the heat was my first friendly reminder that yes, I’m still in India. After 5-minutes walking I was drenched in sweat and dirt. I started making my way up to Abs dodging the requisite motorists and animals and suddenly realized I was not winning the obstacle course this time.
Right foot, left foot, right foot – shit (sorry for the cussing if you’re reading this Grandma)! Walking up the road I landed right in the middle of a pile of you guessed it (don’t need to cuss twice, you get the picture). And no, this isn’t the kind you find in San Francisco. This one was cow plop. Maybe some would say that was a blessing from these holy creatures and having my leg swimming in it would bring me luck, but I sure didn’t feel like it. Odd one out. It is kind of funny, though, and definitely an ism – walking through a relatively commercial area on the way to shopping and being accosted by nature. Finally I made it to the Pyramid – the mini-mall up the road. Inside I made my way through the aisles of gold and diamonds (each stall I passed revealed a sales person who followed me for a few steps past their stall), and up to the clothing section. Here a friendly clerk followed me from rack to rack uttering “you like this madam?” Maybe they work on commission, or maybe it’s just the salesy culture, but it was not helping the cause. Fifty “you like this madam”s later and I found a few winners. At the desk a confused looking clerk wasn’t quite sure what to do with the mix of shirts and jewelry I bought. The bar code worked and each time he clicked it the beeping noise seemed to shock him. We hit trouble when one of the bracelets’ barcodes didn’t work – instead of the cheerful “beap” and “blarech” came out. This led to three other clerks coming over all to stare at the bracelet, then the barcode, then the computer, and back to the bracelets again. By this time a line had formed and other shoppers were getting antsy. Finally the clerk keyed in the code and we were set. One of the shirts was a bit long so I asked for a tailor. Immediately a young man and young girl came running out to assist. The girl held a tape-measure and the man a notebook – not sure why this was a 2-person job, but whatever. They asked how much shorter and I pointed. They asked if any other alterations were needed and I shook my head no (big mistake). After the second question the man started measuring every bit of me while I attempted to say “only the length only the length!” the girl giggling the whole time. I wonder if they understood but just felt like having a bit of fun at the whiteys’ expense… After having to fill out piles of paperwork and not really knowing what was going on, I was handed a slip and told to return in an hour. OK, shopping done, time for the gym. I made my way the next 2-blocks (and 20minutes) up the road to the building housing Abs. Once there I was greeted by the familiar construction tape and dirt which I quickly walked past climbing into the elevator. A man came running after me to push the button to the roof and up we went. Two floors away from the roof he looked at me and said “Abs?” “Yes” I replied. “Oh, that’s closed.” Great… Back to the ground floor and out into the heat I decided to skip the workout and make my way to my new favorite Chinese restaurant for lunch. Today the place was packed with about twice as many patrons as yesterday. I asked for a table for one and immediately three people came over to look at me then walk me to a table. I was guided past the bustling restaurant and into a side area where there was no-one else. 15-tables (yes, I counted, what else are you supposed to do in a restaurant alone with no book) and no-one except me. I didn’t feel different at all. The meal again was great. At the end of lunch I was handed a survey and promptly gave the service and food all 5s with a nice note about the ambiance. The waiter who picked up the survey read it first in front of me (as soon as it was in his hands) and then ran to all the other waiters to show them. Not very discrete and boy am I glad I didn’t write anything bad. 652 isms later and I made it home. Kamul was standing by the front door and looked startled when I walked in. He was even more taken aback that I had left-overs and he didn’t need to cook dinner. I made my way upstairs and am now looking at the piles of clothes and work supplies I have to cram into my suitcase. A new challenge and almost as daunting as trying to cross the street…here goes! Yep, I’m still in India and it’s still…India.
Yep, still India
I got to work this morning at 9am – I had gifted myself an extra few hours of sleep. I would have gone longer, but the neighbor started his daily chanting at 9am on the dot – I’ve come to learn he typically does this between 9am and noon. Chant, that is, not wake people up. Not really sure what he’s saying but the melodic shouting is now stuck in my head.
After lazing around I made my way downstairs where Kamul was already perched ready to see if I needed or wanted anything. In rapid succession I took in breakfast, a quick nap, and then I was ready for the day. Last minute shopping, gym, and packing here I came.
Stepping out into the heat was my first friendly reminder that yes, I’m still in India. After 5-minutes walking I was drenched in sweat and dirt. I started making my way up to Abs dodging the requisite motorists and animals and suddenly realized I was not winning the obstacle course this time.
Right foot, left foot, right foot – shit (sorry for the cussing if you’re reading this Grandma)! Walking up the road I landed right in the middle of a pile of you guessed it (don’t need to cuss twice, you get the picture). And no, this isn’t the kind you find in San Francisco. This one was cow plop. Maybe some would say that was a blessing from these holy creatures and having my leg swimming in it would bring me luck, but I sure didn’t feel like it. Odd one out.
It is kind of funny, though, and definitely an ism – walking through a relatively commercial area on the way to shopping and being accosted by nature.
Finally I made it to the Pyramid – the mini-mall up the road. Inside I made my way through the aisles of gold and diamonds (each stall I passed revealed a sales person who followed me for a few steps past their stall), and up to the clothing section. Here a friendly clerk followed me from rack to rack uttering “you like this madam?” Maybe they work on commission, or maybe it’s just the salesy culture, but it was not helping the cause. Fifty “you like this madam”s later and I found a few winners.
At the desk a confused looking clerk wasn’t quite sure what to do with the mix of shirts and jewelry I bought. The bar code worked and each time he clicked it the beeping noise seemed to shock him. We hit trouble when one of the bracelets’ barcodes didn’t work – instead of the cheerful “beap” and “blarech” came out. This led to three other clerks coming over all to stare at the bracelet, then the barcode, then the computer, and back to the bracelets again. By this time a line had formed and other shoppers were getting antsy. Finally the clerk keyed in the code and we were set.
One of the shirts was a bit long so I asked for a tailor. Immediately a young man and young girl came running out to assist. The girl held a tape-measure and the man a notebook – not sure why this was a 2-person job, but whatever. They asked how much shorter and I pointed. They asked if any other alterations were needed and I shook my head no (big mistake).
After the second question the man started measuring every bit of me while I attempted to say “only the length only the length!” the girl giggling the whole time. I wonder if they understood but just felt like having a bit of fun at the whiteys’ expense… After having to fill out piles of paperwork and not really knowing what was going on, I was handed a slip and told to return in an hour.
OK, shopping done, time for the gym. I made my way the next 2-blocks (and 20minutes) up the road to the building housing Abs. Once there I was greeted by the familiar construction tape and dirt which I quickly walked past climbing into the elevator. A man came running after me to push the button to the roof and up we went. Two floors away from the roof he looked at me and said “Abs?” “Yes” I replied. “Oh, that’s closed.” Great…
Back to the ground floor and out into the heat I decided to skip the workout and make my way to my new favorite Chinese restaurant for lunch. Today the place was packed with about twice as many patrons as yesterday. I asked for a table for one and immediately three people came over to look at me then walk me to a table. I was guided past the bustling restaurant and into a side area where there was no-one else. 15-tables (yes, I counted, what else are you supposed to do in a restaurant alone with no book) and no-one except me. I didn’t feel different at all. The meal again was great. At the end of lunch I was handed a survey and promptly gave the service and food all 5s with a nice note about the ambiance. The waiter who picked up the survey read it first in front of me (as soon as it was in his hands) and then ran to all the other waiters to show them. Not very discrete and boy am I glad I didn’t write anything bad.
652 isms later and I made it home. Kamul was standing by the front door and looked startled when I walked in. He was even more taken aback that I had left-overs and he didn’t need to cook dinner. I made my way upstairs and am now looking at the piles of clothes and work supplies I have to cram into my suitcase. A new challenge and almost as daunting as trying to cross the street…here goes!
Yep, I’m still in India and it’s still…India.
After lazing around I made my way downstairs where Kamul was already perched ready to see if I needed or wanted anything. In rapid succession I took in breakfast, a quick nap, and then I was ready for the day. Last minute shopping, gym, and packing here I came.
Stepping out into the heat was my first friendly reminder that yes, I’m still in India. After 5-minutes walking I was drenched in sweat and dirt. I started making my way up to Abs dodging the requisite motorists and animals and suddenly realized I was not winning the obstacle course this time.
Right foot, left foot, right foot – shit (sorry for the cussing if you’re reading this Grandma)! Walking up the road I landed right in the middle of a pile of you guessed it (don’t need to cuss twice, you get the picture). And no, this isn’t the kind you find in San Francisco. This one was cow plop. Maybe some would say that was a blessing from these holy creatures and having my leg swimming in it would bring me luck, but I sure didn’t feel like it. Odd one out.
It is kind of funny, though, and definitely an ism – walking through a relatively commercial area on the way to shopping and being accosted by nature.
Finally I made it to the Pyramid – the mini-mall up the road. Inside I made my way through the aisles of gold and diamonds (each stall I passed revealed a sales person who followed me for a few steps past their stall), and up to the clothing section. Here a friendly clerk followed me from rack to rack uttering “you like this madam?” Maybe they work on commission, or maybe it’s just the salesy culture, but it was not helping the cause. Fifty “you like this madam”s later and I found a few winners.
At the desk a confused looking clerk wasn’t quite sure what to do with the mix of shirts and jewelry I bought. The bar code worked and each time he clicked it the beeping noise seemed to shock him. We hit trouble when one of the bracelets’ barcodes didn’t work – instead of the cheerful “beap” and “blarech” came out. This led to three other clerks coming over all to stare at the bracelet, then the barcode, then the computer, and back to the bracelets again. By this time a line had formed and other shoppers were getting antsy. Finally the clerk keyed in the code and we were set.
One of the shirts was a bit long so I asked for a tailor. Immediately a young man and young girl came running out to assist. The girl held a tape-measure and the man a notebook – not sure why this was a 2-person job, but whatever. They asked how much shorter and I pointed. They asked if any other alterations were needed and I shook my head no (big mistake).
After the second question the man started measuring every bit of me while I attempted to say “only the length only the length!” the girl giggling the whole time. I wonder if they understood but just felt like having a bit of fun at the whiteys’ expense… After having to fill out piles of paperwork and not really knowing what was going on, I was handed a slip and told to return in an hour.
OK, shopping done, time for the gym. I made my way the next 2-blocks (and 20minutes) up the road to the building housing Abs. Once there I was greeted by the familiar construction tape and dirt which I quickly walked past climbing into the elevator. A man came running after me to push the button to the roof and up we went. Two floors away from the roof he looked at me and said “Abs?” “Yes” I replied. “Oh, that’s closed.” Great…
Back to the ground floor and out into the heat I decided to skip the workout and make my way to my new favorite Chinese restaurant for lunch. Today the place was packed with about twice as many patrons as yesterday. I asked for a table for one and immediately three people came over to look at me then walk me to a table. I was guided past the bustling restaurant and into a side area where there was no-one else. 15-tables (yes, I counted, what else are you supposed to do in a restaurant alone with no book) and no-one except me. I didn’t feel different at all. The meal again was great. At the end of lunch I was handed a survey and promptly gave the service and food all 5s with a nice note about the ambiance. The waiter who picked up the survey read it first in front of me (as soon as it was in his hands) and then ran to all the other waiters to show them. Not very discrete and boy am I glad I didn’t write anything bad.
652 isms later and I made it home. Kamul was standing by the front door and looked startled when I walked in. He was even more taken aback that I had left-overs and he didn’t need to cook dinner. I made my way upstairs and am now looking at the piles of clothes and work supplies I have to cram into my suitcase. A new challenge and almost as daunting as trying to cross the street…here goes!
Yep, I’m still in India and it’s still…India.
Saturday, March 10, 2007
Ism #189763250
Sitting in a Chinese restaurant in a mall in India perusing the CA wine list and settling on an Australian beer. Now that’s my kind of ism.
Tourist for a day
Salim picked me up at noon today to go explore Pune a bit. We did the requisite weekend shopping dodging motorcycles and walkers, and then made it to a fort. In the heart of Pune is a huge fort bigger than 3 city blocks. I paid the (foreigner) entry fee and explored. Walking into the stone walls and up on the grassy hills of the fort the city became quiet. It’s funny that an old fort provides solace from the bustling city.
Tourist for a day
Salim picked me up at noon today to go explore Pune a bit. We did the requisite weekend shopping dodging motorcycles and walkers, and then made it to a fort. In the heart of Pune is a huge fort bigger than 3 city blocks. I paid the (foreigner) entry fee and explored. Walking into the stone walls and up on the grassy hills of the fort the city became quiet. It’s funny that an old fort provides solace from the bustling city.
Thursday, March 8, 2007
I want it, and I want it now!
Being in India has mellowed me out a bit…kinda. It’s interesting – I still move fast – walk fast/talk fast/work fast. In San Francisco that’s the norm. Here, people seem to soak life in. Don’t get me wrong – still moving fast, but enjoying the scenery along the way. Now, I’m not saying a zen state of mind has kicked in – just an awareness.
Wednesday, March 7, 2007
Bangalore, banganational
Gaurav and I made our way out of Pune and to Bangalore this week to interview vendors. After rising at 5am, for a 6am flight, and making our way through the Pune military airport and to Bangalore, we were greeted by hordes of people in suits, more foreigners than I’ve seen in a month, and nearly as much traffic as Delhi.
Bangalore is truly an international city. A cross between NYC, Egypt, and San Jose, Bangalore is swarming with all types.
We checked into the hotel, and made our way to the first vendor meeting – an ad and web agency - tucked away behind apartments, as many offices seemed to be (the city busting at every seam). After a successful meeting, we headed across the city to agency #2. prior to heading in it was time for lunch. It’s funny, wearing a suit and acting professional doesn’t normally go with eating with your hands and sitting on a dirty park bench surrounded by picnickers. Here that’s normal.
A day of meetings later and we were wiped. Randomly, Lynnette was also in town working for another company. After splashing water in my face and downing a tea, I made it to her hotel – the Leela.
Walking in I felt like I left India and made it into a dream. The hotel was massive filled with marble and decorated by urns with floating rose-petals everything. 90% of the patrons were European all seeming to talk about some deal they just closed or outsourced model they were looking at kicking off.
Bangalore is truly an international city. A cross between NYC, Egypt, and San Jose, Bangalore is swarming with all types.
We checked into the hotel, and made our way to the first vendor meeting – an ad and web agency - tucked away behind apartments, as many offices seemed to be (the city busting at every seam). After a successful meeting, we headed across the city to agency #2. prior to heading in it was time for lunch. It’s funny, wearing a suit and acting professional doesn’t normally go with eating with your hands and sitting on a dirty park bench surrounded by picnickers. Here that’s normal.
A day of meetings later and we were wiped. Randomly, Lynnette was also in town working for another company. After splashing water in my face and downing a tea, I made it to her hotel – the Leela.
Walking in I felt like I left India and made it into a dream. The hotel was massive filled with marble and decorated by urns with floating rose-petals everything. 90% of the patrons were European all seeming to talk about some deal they just closed or outsourced model they were looking at kicking off.
Tuesday, March 6, 2007
Bag of bags
No, this is not a story about a dream Gucci clutch filled with smaller versions for makeup, change, and general purpose. This is an ism about lunch. The other day I went to grab a “quick” lunch to eat at my desk. I walked around the corner to the only local restaurant I can remember the location of, and found a new smaller hole in the wall restaurant. Figuring I’d try something new, I slid in and went up to the register to order.
The menu was all in Hindi, but after being here nearly a month I didn’t want to have to ask everything on the menu again – stubborn and odd, I know. So instead, I pointed to the first thing on the menu, handed over 60 INR, and waited. Five-minutes later, and the waiter came out carrying a bag…you guessed it…of bags.
Back at the office I dove into the bag starving and ready for lunch. What I found dumbfounded me and I was stuck as to what to do. Half of the bags were filled with a different liquid. Two bags contained onions – two different types. One bag held roti. And a last bag enclosed spices. Not quick ‘n easy to eat, but definitely an experience.
The menu was all in Hindi, but after being here nearly a month I didn’t want to have to ask everything on the menu again – stubborn and odd, I know. So instead, I pointed to the first thing on the menu, handed over 60 INR, and waited. Five-minutes later, and the waiter came out carrying a bag…you guessed it…of bags.
Back at the office I dove into the bag starving and ready for lunch. What I found dumbfounded me and I was stuck as to what to do. Half of the bags were filled with a different liquid. Two bags contained onions – two different types. One bag held roti. And a last bag enclosed spices. Not quick ‘n easy to eat, but definitely an experience.
Monday, March 5, 2007
And a happy Holi to one and all!
It’s that time of year – the seasons are changing, heat is rising, and paint is flying. Sunday was Holi here in India and the streets were filled with children and teens flinging color on each other and darting all over the place. Holi is the festival of color and, as Rajan told me, celebrates the end of the harvest season and beginning of summer…even though technically the heat started hitting the red zone a few weeks ago. I happily drove by all the merriment taking pictures of the colorful celebrators on the side of the road.
It’s a car…it’s a roadblock…it’s a cow!
On the way to the gym today we got stuck behind 3 cows ambling up the road. Nowhere to go, we just had to coast as they teetered up the street. What could we do? We couldn’t exactly tell them to “mooooooove!”
OK, even though my cultural experiences are increasing, the quality of my jokes is decreasing. What to do what to do… The human factor is what really educates Today at lunch I ran out to buy some shawls…more shawls. Salim took me to a shop that just relocated here from Kashmir and I was like a kid in a candy shop. After showing me every color and every pattern, the shopkeep looked up and said, “country? What country??” I replied USA and his eyes widened. I wasn’t sure if this was a qualifying question to the negotiation that later ensued, or just a nicety. Three more shawl displays and I found out.
“Madam, can you please tell your President to please help?” He said as his eyes filled with tears. “Did you know there are all these promises…and the US is the only country that’s going to save us? Please help.” Tilting my head (just once - inquiring in the US, if I had ‘tilted’ multiple times it would have represented listening/understanding here) he continued. “You see, madam, my family is there. Half is on the Pakistan side, half on the India side. I love my family. I want to be together again.” My eyes started filling up quickly matching his. “You go tell Him to help. OK? Or maybe, just write a letter.” Shaken and not really knowing what to say I just stood, listening.
After a sorrow filled staring contest, the shopkeep broke the silence. “So, how many are you going to take?”
Saturday, March 3, 2007
Another Saturday in Oz
Donkeys and elephants and camels oh my! Lately India has seemed like the path to the Emerald City. Outside everything if foreign and new. The streets are lined with shops, cars, people, and animals that I would normally have to pay a $7.95 zoo entry for. Home, work, and sleep are the periods when I’ve clicked my ruby slippers and am in familiar territory. Logging on to the Web zips you back to any place you want to be – familiarity.
Went to lunch with Gaurav today and it seemed like a fairly standard Indian meal – 3-hours long, fried vegetables and fish with a multitude of sauces, curry chicken with raw onions, and…steak! Ordering steak was like standing at heaven’s gates. Getting the steak was a stark reminder that there’s no place like home for a good cut of California raised beef.
After stuffing ourselves we made it to MG road for some shopping. The stop – Bombay Store. The purchase – pillow cases and a shawl. The cost – too much for India but a steal by US standards. Arriving home from a long day of eating, dodging animals, and spending money, I was greeted by chai, Smita, and Rajan – two people and a drink that can make anyone feel at home. It’s funny, the longer I’m here the more isms seem to fade into the background – instead of a man with his head over his leg holding a fishing pole over the street being odd, it’s another day in Pune.
Tomorrow is the color festival so, with the city drenched in pink/brown/green/blue/etc., there will be isms galore.
Went to lunch with Gaurav today and it seemed like a fairly standard Indian meal – 3-hours long, fried vegetables and fish with a multitude of sauces, curry chicken with raw onions, and…steak! Ordering steak was like standing at heaven’s gates. Getting the steak was a stark reminder that there’s no place like home for a good cut of California raised beef.
After stuffing ourselves we made it to MG road for some shopping. The stop – Bombay Store. The purchase – pillow cases and a shawl. The cost – too much for India but a steal by US standards. Arriving home from a long day of eating, dodging animals, and spending money, I was greeted by chai, Smita, and Rajan – two people and a drink that can make anyone feel at home. It’s funny, the longer I’m here the more isms seem to fade into the background – instead of a man with his head over his leg holding a fishing pole over the street being odd, it’s another day in Pune.
Tomorrow is the color festival so, with the city drenched in pink/brown/green/blue/etc., there will be isms galore.
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