I’m hoping this area will be one of the more successful sections of the site. As many of you know, when I’m working, I tend to get caught up in what I’m doing and don’t always take time to stop and smell the roses. Also, I know many of you will think of questions that I won’t think to ask or won’t know the answer to right away. While you can get an idea of what I’m experiencing from the daily journal entries, you may not get a complete understanding of what Bangalore is like.

In order to be successful, this section requires interaction. While I didn’t want to spend the time putting a form or guestbook on the site, I don’t believe it will be too much of an imposition to make this a successful venture. What I’d like is for anyone who reads these pages and has questions to email the questions to me. Indicate in the email if it’s ok to post the question and my response on the site, et voila, fait accompli.

I won’t discuss work in this section of the site, but if you have any questions relating to Bangalore, culture, history, food, etc., I’d be more than happy to post them here. Also, since I may not always have access to the internet, I see this area fulfilling a secondary role as a FAQ. You can check here to see if a question has been asked and get an immediate response, rather than waiting for me to respond to your email.

Faisal is still concerned about my eating habits. While I’ve managed to switch my sleeping schedule to reflect the work shifts in India time, I am still eating to North American hours. That means I’m usually eating a decent meal very late in the evening. After I described my normal eating habits, he’s even more confused. My normal breakfast of yogurt and V8 obtained the descriptive appellation of ‘pauper’, while my standard lunch of a sandwhich didn’t fare much better. I don’t think he was satisfied with any of my normal meals until I described dinner – which is usually a much larger meal (or ‘rich man’s meal’ in Faisals’ description to others). If you haven’t guessed, Faisal is obsessed with food and eats as often and as much as Drew. They’re two birds of a feather, Faisal and Drew – eating constantly, always wanting to know when the next meal is coming, and as skinny as rakes.

I did have breakfast at the center today – even though it didn’t match my normal eating schedule. Now I am full and can’t imaging shoving any more food down my throat. Faisal is sure to ask me in an hour if I want more food to eat!

The cafeteria at work only serves vegetarian food. Many Hindu’s will eat chicken and fish, but beef is obviously not on their meal plan. Goat is a popular meat in India as well.

Manish’s driver has not yet appeared at work and it is time to go home. I offer him a ride with me, and he suggests going to a restaurant he knows for an after dinner beer. The restaurant is in the Barton Centre on M.G. Road and is located on the 13th floor of the building. In North America, superstition prevents many buildings from listing a 13th floor. Instead, we tend to jump from 12 to 14 – as if the 13th floor doesn’t exist.

The highlight of the restaurant is its’ outdoor patio which overlooks the city and has a magnificent view. From there, you can see the government buildings, cricket stadium (which would put most CFL stadiums to shame), the Parade common, and a number of other buildings of interest. From our perch high above, we can see the cars parked hap hazzardly in the roads, and a large stretch of M.G Road.

M.G. Road is Mahatma Ghandi Road, and was renamed from South Parade Road after India gained its’ independence. On the right side of the road, there is a massive military parade field, and in the past the English used to parade up and down the road with regularity. October 2nd is Mahatma Ghandi’s birthday and a holiday in India. The festival is named Ghandi-ji (I hope I spelled that correctly) and as it approaches, everyone becomes more and more excited.

The restaurant is packed and we have to wait for a decent table. Manish states this is unusual for a Tuesday evening. Once again, I am treated to more culinary delights. I barely remember what things are called, but I’ve yet to have a single Indian dish that I haven’t thoroughly enjoyed. I think I’m in danger of being compared to Faisal or Drew, with my new fixation on food!

I tell Manish about the Persian silk on silk carpet I saw while shopping on Sunday. I’m certain Faranak would have loved it. The carpet was amazing, but at 42,000 Rupees was well above my budget. Manish has offered to take me shopping for a carpet tomorrow between work commitments. I hope my budget can afford this, since almost everything I have selected has been designated as someone’s Christmas present to date. I think a small India rug would make a perfect Christmas present for our house.

As we are leaving the 13th floor, I pointed out the cute little Hyandai Santo hatchback parked next to our taxi. Unlike North American hatchbacks, this one barely has any trunk space at all. When I asked where they put all their things, Manish advised that Indians don’t carry as many things around in a car as Canadians would. If you purchase something that is too large to fit into your car – a TV or furniture, for example – the store will have it delivered to your home for free.

Every few hours, the power will flicker and turn off for a few seconds. In the beginning, I was quiet worried, but it’s become normal for me. When I’m working on my journal, my laptop switches from power to battery and I type by the glow of my screen. Back home, it would be a mad scramble for flashlights – since when the power goes out, it’s usually out for hours – but here it’s just become another quirk that I’ve quickly adjusted to.

India is a country of extremes – from abject poverty to supremely rich. I think I shocked my driver tonight. As we were waiting at a light, a beggar came to the car window. He had a small child strapped to his body, and was knocking on the windows of cars. I have noticed this behaviour before, but they have never approached our car window in the past. Tonight, I asked him to roll down the window so I could give him some money. In North America, I’ve always prided myself on being willing and able to provide assistance to those in need. However, I normally wouldn’t give anyone cash in Canada or the US. In the past, if I was asked for money for a meal, I’d take the person to a restaurant for dinner and pay for any meal they wanted. However, as my driver was motioning him away, I couldn’t not look him in the eye and recognize his need. I have never understood how people could walk by someone else in need without acknowledging them. I would never survive in the big city. I do not want to ever be someone who can’t look another human being in the eye and offer assistance if needed.

My mother always chastises me on being generous to a fault. I blame it on my upbringing.

I’m up way past my bedtime, since it’s another 5am wake up call for me tomorrow. I’ll have to pick up my journal in the morning and continue with my adventures then.

Most Canadians pride themselves on being polite, open minded travelers. Perhaps it’s vanity or a superiority complex. Perhaps it’s simply the result of living in one of the most multi-cultural countries in the world.

However open we consider ourselves to be, there are always some things that are more difficult to adjust to – food, daily activities, cultural limitations, etc.

While most of the following observations may not fit the accepted norm for the term culture shock, I found myself surprised (both pleasantly and otherwise) and interested in my surroundings and the people of India.

• Growing up in New Brunswick, I was fortunate to have been enrolled in the immersion language program in school and continued my studies of French in university. When I first came to work for Convergys, I spent the bulk of my first year working in both official languages – predominantly French. Add to that a smattering of Spanish language training, and I’ve never had difficulty communicating with most North Americans. While in airports, I was not surprised to learn that most of the employees spoke multiple languages – often without a noticeable accent. In Amsterdam, the coffee shop employees and security personnel spoke Dutch, German, English, Hindi, French and a few other languages I wasn’t familiar enough with to identify. In Mumbai (Bombay), most of the airport employees spoke English, and similar to a flight originating in Canada, all onboard passenger instructions were provided in a minimum of 2 languages – English always included. I’ll admit one of my greatest concerns about coming to India wasn’t safety or the risk of disease, it was the ability to communicate. I wasn’t able to find any ‘learn to speak…’ language training guides in Hindi, etc. and hadn’t had time to enroll in a basic language course at the university in Edmonton prior to coming to India. While I knew that English was taught in many schools, I was still amazed at how well and frequently English is spoken in Mumbai and Bangalore.
• As the Walkerton, ON ecoli tragedy has taught many Canadians, we take our supply of drinking water for granted. At home, I drink 3 – 6 liters of water a day (Bottled or filtered tap water). In the hotel, there are 3 500 ml complimentary bottles of water. Manish, one of the managers at the India location, spent time reminding me that under no circumstances was I to drink any water unless it was from a sealed bottle. The water coolers throughout the building do not contain water from a ‘trusted’ source and are to be avoided at all costs. As Rajesh put it – he can drink the water because he’s had over 30 years to get use to it and his stomache can handle anything. They both suggested bringing as many of the complimentary water bottles as possible from the hotel, to avoid having to pay for bottled water in the center. However, I expect I’ll be paying for a large number of bottles of water over the upcoming weeks, just to maintain my normal drinking habits. In the Times of India newspaper (09/22/03, 09/23/03), a number of articles focus on obtaining and maintaining safe supplies of drinking water for Indians.
• In the Times of India (English language newspaper – 09/23/03), there is an interview with the CM’s wife. In the article, she touches on the issue of stray dogs in Bangalore. While she makes an excellent point – who will ultimately be held responsible for any bites people may receive from the animals – her other comments on the issue surprised me greatly. She suggests moving all stray dogs to a plot of land outside of the city, where they can then continue to fend for themselves. I found this approach fascinating, considering the health nurse at the Travel Center who insisted I was vaccinated for rabies advised me that India has one of the highest animal to human transfer rate for the disease in the world.
• In North America, we round up stray animals via the SPCA or Animal Control. Ideally, we’d be able to find suitable homes for healthy animals, and only those too ill to survive would be euthanized. Of course, we know that this isn’t always the case, and that healthy animals for whom we can find no home are euthanized. However, in North America, strays are not allowed to roam free.
• Traffic congestion is everywhere. Construction here means that the only available roads are torn up for improvement while people are still using them to drive on. Pedestrians walk the wrong way down the middle of the road. Cows and horses pulling carts saunter in the middle of the street. I doubt if I can adequately describe what driving is like in Bangalore. The closest thing I can think of is the Memphis FedEx Hub at 1am – with tugs driving every which way, drivers honking to communicate, and everyone seemingly knowing just when to stop and go. There are no designated (painted) driving lanes, few traffic signals, and fewer drivers who pay attention to the signals. Motorcyclists rarely wear helmets and drive on the sidewalk if the road becomes too busy – forcing pedestrians onto the roadways for safety! Parents hold infants in their hands as they putter along on mopeds and motorcycles… Manish informs me that there is a method to the madness and that every driver knows exactly where to stop and how to handle their vehicles. The cars and trucks are smaller – more maneuverable – and squeeze in where ever there is room. Despite the haphazard driving, Manish and Faisal both assure me that there are few accidents on the roadways and it is extremely rare for serious injuries to occur due to accidents. In August, Faranak attempted to describe driving in India and Iran to me. I have new found respect for her driving skills since experiencing travel as a passenger in India. I can’t imagine driving in this country and am very thankful that I have a personal chauffeur for the duration of my visit… and to think, I was concerned about arriving in Edmonton in the middle of winter and having to drive in the snow again!
• Many of the restaurants are open air and small open buildings where people gather to eat have giant Hotel signs in front of them. This represents an eating establishment. People don’t go to Hotels to sleep for the night (many of these Hotels don’t have rooms). Instead, they go to Hotels to eat.
• People are so polite here. Canadians always think they’ve got the market cornered on politeness, but we’re down right rude when compared to the Indians in Bangalore.
• In Canada, a cover charge is an admission fee you pay in order to go into a nightclub or bar. Once inside, you then have to pay the full cost of anything you drink in the establishment. In India, a ‘Cover Charge’ at a nightclub in Bangalore includes the cost of admission and covers the cost of any drinks you may have, up to the amount of the charge on the form. The cover charge can’t be used against the cost of food if you eat at the nightclub. What we would consider a cover charge back home is called an ‘Admission Charge’ in Bangalore.
• Nursing Homes are small hospitals or clinics. They often specialize in providing set services and advertise those services on a sign at the front of the building. Back home, a Nursing Home (or Residential Care Home) is a specialized care facility for the elderly. In India, they are known as ‘Old Age Homes’.

I am working a day shift and am up at 4:45 am. I’m not very functional before 5:30 am, so I have to get up extra early in order to have some coffee and do the standard early morning routine of shower and dress. It’s funny how I can stay up for all hours of the night – although not with the same regularity that I did in university – but can’t get started in the morning without a large cup of coffee. In India, that means I need to drink 3-5 cups just to get a full dose.

Faisal suggested that we have a theme day at work which has been greeted with much enthusiasm. Everyone will be wearing traditional Indian dress. I haven’t purchased any clothing yet, so the women in my class have volunteered to take me shopping this weekend so that I can join them in wearing traditional clothing next week. I’m very excited about it, since one of my main shopping goals since arriving has been to purchase a saree or two and some kurta pajamas.

I think I might need another suitcase before I come home.

In the early evening, it takes a long time to go from work to the Leela Palace. The traffic is terrible. Instead of a 15 minute drive, it takes over an hour to get home. Each day as I pass, I see a small group of huts and tents at the side of the road. It has always been dark outside as we’ve driven past, and I had assumed the buildings were some sort of marketplace. Tonight, I discovered that they were peoples’ homes. When I mentioned it to Manish, he told me that many unskilled workers move into the city from the outlying areas. They work as labourers on construction sites and pitch their tents of build huts as close to the construction site as possible. When the work is completed, they move on to the next site.

I do not have much to write about today. I left the hotel for work early and wasn’t home until late in the evening. I did discover that unlike North American hotels, room service costs the same as eating at the hotel restaurant. A simple dinner of Dal Makhani and Naan hit the spot and I’m ready to doze off in my chair now.

Today was Malaria medication day – I’m on the once a week regime – and I’ve discovered that this provides another reason for Monday’s to be dreaded. It’s really hard on the stomache and makes a person feel horrible. No wonder they suggest taking it just before bed so you can sleep off most of the worst effects!

I’m sure I’ll have more to say tomorrow.

Today I miss:

• Cuddling on the couch with Thanatos and Bubba.
• Having to shove Fenris off of the bed so there’s room for me.