School Days

After seeing the Taj Mahal, I had a hard time imagining that I'd see anything more beautiful on this trip. I was wrong. Yesterday I went with some of the other expats to visit Hyderabad's Rainbow Primary School, founded 4 years ago by the wife of a Googler and now one of the best schools in the area. Their mission is that 'Every Child Must be a Child' and their model is unconventional:

We aim to be the best school in the state of Andhra Pradesh through a combination of child-centered teaching methods and sensitive regard for slum conditions.
To this end, we aim to become the community center for the slum. As the developing world crushes into the cities, we hope the model of "School as Community Center" will be of some use.

(Source: www.rainbowprimaryschool.blogspot.com)

On our way to the school we stopped at a bookstore to stock up on supplies. I picked out some of my favorites, including Dr. Seuss's Green Eggs and Ham. My mother will appreciate that. However, I didn't really understand how little English the kids knew, so the tiny little baby books ended up in the third grade classroom and I'm assuming Shel Silverstein's Where the Sidewalk Ends will find its way to a middle school at some point. Lesson learned. At least now I have a much better idea of what they need.

The kids lit up the second we set foot in the school. They were so excited to see us, I imagine they felt the way I did in elementary school on days when we had room parties. The building was really small for the number of students it holds, but it's more than adequate compared to local standards. The school is free for the kids, including meals, and they also do their best to provide uniforms, shoes, and supplies. Of course, if you look through my photos you'll notice that a number of them are barefoot and without proper uniforms. Never in my life have I felt guilty for having clean clothes or wearing shoes, but I couldn't help wondering what these children might be thinking. They seemed so aware of their surroundings, yet blissfully unaware at the same time. 

Despite the obvious struggles they face, the kids were so happy and full of life. They were fighting for our attention, begging to have their picture taken, to shake our hands, and to show off their talents. The school runs 7 days/week, so they usually stick to more fun activities on the weekends. Thus, the fact that we held an impromptu school-wide talent show was not at all ridiculous. There were hundreds of kids packed into a tiny area watching their class mates sing and dance. The teachers were frantically scanning radio stations to find suitable music for the performers. 

At first I was shocked at how willing they were to get up in front of everyone and show their stuff, but the more I thought about it, the less it surprised me. In America, public speaking is our #1 fear, outranking even death. It's clear that death is a far more distant reality to us than it is to these children, and performing in front of their school may be the closest they ever get to fame and fortune. Of course, when you think about an American kids facing ADHD, obesity, and a whole host of social and emotional disorders, it's hard to argue that we're really better off. These kids were happy, without exception, and without medication. 

Experiences like this are difficult to write about because they're difficult to process. I'm not sure what sort of impact a visit like this might have on these kids, but I'm guessing it's minimal. At the very least, they had a good time and I truly enjoyed just hanging out with them. I felt so loved by these tiny strangers and I adored their smiling faces. I expect to be spending more time there before I leave and my goal is to teach a lesson there before I leave. I should probably start working on my Telegu...

gv

P.S. There are a lot of pictures and videos posted on my Picasa page (no login required), including ones from the Rainbow School and an engagement party I attended in traditional Indian attire.

Bad Hair Day

I was in the bathroom messing with my hair today, trying to make something quasi professional out of the train wreck that my hair has become (I blame all of my ailments on the water here, and this is no exception). After a few tries I finally gave up and just made a messy bun. when the cleaning woman stopped me. She didn't say a word, knowing that neither of us spoke a language the other would understand, but she made a downward gesture to me, indicating that I should let my hair down. 

I had a million other things to do and I've already grown far too impatient trying to decipher Indian non-verbal communication, but there was something so genuine about her request that made me feel compelled to listen. So I pulled the rubberband out and waited for her to nod approvingly so I could leave and put it back the way I wanted it. She then gestured to me that I hadn't gotten it quite right and I suddenly regretted ever having paid attention to her in the first place.

The woman proceeded to let down her own bun and make a regular ponytail with her hair. I did the same and she smiled and clapped to let me know I got it right. I didn't particularly like it that way, but she did, so I kept it. I thought to myself, here is a woman who is uneducated, unskilled, virtually invisible to the office not to mention the rest of society, yet she had the confidence to strike up a "conversation" with a stranger who didn't speak her language. And there in the ladies room we acted out a common scene that takes place between women in the US all the time, but without saying a single word. It's almost as if we were following a universal female code that requires us to guide one another through bad hair days, regardless of class, race, ethnicity, religion, sexual orientation, or nationality. She felt it was her duty to help me, and I felt it was my duty to listen.

I recently read an article about living artfully and finding beauty in everyday life. The biggest challenge is not creating art, but discovering it amidst the stress and chaos we deal with regularly. It makes perfect sense that in order to see something, we need only to open our eyes. 

I walked into the bathroom today thinking about all of the meetings I had to prepare for, deadlines I have to meet, the nagging stomach problems distracting me from work, and on top of it I was having a bad hair day. A few minutes later, I walked out feeling as though I had just witnessed a small miracle. 

The whole interaction felt like a scene from a musical where two unsuspecting strangers meet and immediately engage in a perfectly rehearsed song and dance routine. It seemed so choreographed, but completely genuine at the same time. There was something so uniquely beautiful about the exchange, not in spite of the fact that it was so mundane, but rather because of it. 

Valentine's Special

Since my every day work life isn't much different here, I hadn't really felt like a tourist until I took my first trip outside my Google/Hyderabad bubble last weekend to see Delhi and Agra. It was the first time since I've been here that I felt really far away from home, and it's finally starting to sink in that I'm actually in India.

I went with Mike, one of my roommates and Vince, another expat. Let me pause for a moment and comment on traveler culture. When abroad it is completely acceptable to make weekend plans with perfect strangers within minutes of meeting them. There's safety in numbers, so as long as you both instantly agree that you could tolerate the other for a few days it's a done deal. Mike was planning a trip to Delhi and Agra, I wanted to take a trip this weekend, and voila. We have a match. 

We caught a Friday afternoon flight to Delhi, which turned into an evening flight thanks to a delay, and headed straight to the Google guest houses near our Gurgaon office. We didn't really plan an agenda for our day in Delhi. We figured that our driver would be able to derive some sort of logical sequence for the day, a logical assumption considering that (a) he's a professional driver and (b) he lives in Delhi. Of course, we all know what happens when we assume... It's not that he didn't know where the places were, but more that he didn't understand a single word we said. We tried so many different communication methods (verbal, non verbal, calling our Hindi-speaking friends, etc.) and every time we thought he understood we would end up on the opposite side of town and start the dance all over again. What I found most amusing was the fact that he was kind of annoyed that we kept having him double back, as if it was our intention to see Delhi in the most illogical manner possible.

A quick note on communication in India. There is a universal head nod that moves sort of sideways and on a diagonal that means any one of the following: yes, no, maybe, hello, goodbye,I love your sari, your baby is ugly, you have food in your teeth, or pretty much anything else you might ever say (or not say) to another person. The only way to make sense of it is to read the facial expression or hope they use a verbal cue as well. Thus, when our driver shook his head while saying "Yes, Madam", I was led to believe that what I said actually made sense. 

For anyone familiar with Delhi you will find the following agenda incredibly amusing. I'm not going to go into too much historical detail because I don't want to bore you and I really didn't bother to learn it in the first place. Our first stop was India Gate, which is at the center of the city and their version of the tomb of the unknown soldier. From there we went to Old Delhi to see the Red Fort. It's hard to believe that something like this was really necessary at one point in time. Next stop was supposed to be a famous tandoori restaurant called Karim's, but we actually ended up at Humayrun's Tomb, which is like a mini version of the Taj Mahal and my favorite site in Delhi. 

We then found out that Karim's was actually back by the Red Fort, but we were already back toward the center of town so we decided to head to the Lotus Temple, which is a Bahai temple shaped like a lotus flower. I thought it looked like the Sydney Opera House. We had to take off our shoes, but I left my socks on for fear of warts and foot disease. It reminded me of airport security in the summertime when everyone is wearing sandals and walks through security barefoot. I don't want my bare feet where other peoples' bare feet have been, not to mention bird poop and who knows what else. Gross. 

From the Lotus Temple we decided to go back to Old Delhi to see Jama Masjid, a huge beautiful mosque. I think I remember someone saying that it's the largest mosque in the... something or other. It was big, that's the important part. The walkway leading up to it is littered with vendors selling weird thing like moth balls and all kinds of strange people staring and begging.  At the risk of being terribly insensitive and possibly offensive, the only way I can describe it is to picture an Indian circus sideshow act in the middle of a Mexican flea market. Forgive me, I mean no disrespect.

We were royally ripped off by some guy guarding the security entrance of the mosque who 

charged us to bring our cameras in. I know better now. Again, we had to take our shoes off and 

at this point I promised myself that I would throw these socks out immediately when I got home. We bought tickets to climb to the top of the minaret, which sounded like a great idea until I realized how many stairs were involved (remember, I'm in my socks still). Of course, when we got to the top the view of Delhi was unbelievable and worth the claustrophobic hike. We were there just as the sun was setting, which meant that the mosque was closing to women and non-Muslims so we enjoyed a few peaceful minutes before heading back down.

At this point, we were so hungry and ready to finally sit down at Karim's for a meal. We went back to the car and several minutes passed before I realized we were back near the center of town, which didn't seem right but the driver assured me we were on our way to Karim's. Night has fallen at this point and we get dropped off at the end of back alley bazaar type thing with instructions to go straight and take a left. There were several lefts, of course, and it was clear that whatever restaurant named Karim's that may be hidden in this area was not a place where we would actually want to eat. 

So, we headed back to the car and called our Hindi-speaking friend and asked him to recommend a well-known restaurant on our way back to Gurgoan. We never did make it to Karim's, but we enjoyed a lovely Valentine's Day buffet for three. We arrived at 7:30 completely famished and it wasn't until after they seated us and served us wine that they told us it started at 8:30. This, my friends, is India. I stuffed my face that night, by the way, and didn't feel an ounce of guilt.

We got back to the guest house around 11:00. I quickly showered and got into bed set my alarm for 1:00am. I had just over an hour to sleep before our next adventure would begin. We wanted to get to Agra in time to see the Taj Mahal at sunrise, and with a four to five hour drive this was our only option. I grabbed a pillow, assuming I'd just sleep in the car and magically wake up in front of the Taj Mahal just as the sun was rising. Unfortunately that plan was diverted by the fact that we were riding in an old Tata Indica, which is even smaller than a Ford Ikon and completely devoid of suspension. The roads are terrible and we were being tossed around like crazy. It kind of felt like the time my friend Becky and I rented a Hyundai Elantra and went off roading to the Grand Canyon, except that was kind of fun and this was just plain miserable.  

Alas, we made good time and were there well before sunrise. In fact, we were about an hour and a half early because apparently the Taj Mahal does not open until 7am. This little detail, of course, was not mentioned by any of the guide books or online reviews. We took 'sunrise' quite literally, but at that point we were standing at the gates of the Taj Mahal and it didn't really matter.

The first thing you see when you get through the gate (and security) is a beautiful entry way. It's an amazing architectural feat on its own, and the perfect prelude for what lies beyond it. I stepped through the archway, took my first look at the Taj Mahal, and got chills. It's the sort of thing that words cannot do justice, so I'm not going to try. Standing there in person made me understand why it is one of the seven wonders of the world. It may not be a natural wonder, but there is no question that it was built by God's people.

Perhaps it was the descendants of these people who greeted us at the exit with postcards and mini Taj replicas in hand. I bought a few postcards from a persistent little 10 year old before heading to breakfast at a local hotel. Yes, I said local, but by then we were so hungry (again) that it didn't matter. A family came in to eat and their little boy was pretending to fist pound me from across the room. Thinking it was adorable, we called him over. I tried showing him how to twist his fist after it hits mine but he got frustrated and punched me in the stomach. Little bastard. He's lucky I have a rule against beating up kids under the age of 8.

From the restaurant we went to the Red Fort. This is a different Red Fort, and a much cooler one at that. It's the way a fort should be with all kinds of hiding places and stairwells to get lost in. We had a blast running around before the dreadful ride back. 

We made a stop in Mathara along the way to visit one of Mike's friends. It's a very holy city in the Hindu religion and entirely vegetarian. We had a nice lunch and walked around for a bit to see the front of a famous Hindu temple/Mosque and stopped for some lassi. Lassi is a sweet milk and curd drink that I had no interest in tasting, but the guys liked it.

The trip back to Delhi was long and bumpy, but we got back in time to have dinner with the Gurgaon expats. It was nice to just hang out and relax after such a crazy weekend. Our early morning flight back to Hyderabad was a bit of a nightmare that started with our driver dropping us off at the wrong terminal and snowballed from there. Fortunately, we made it back safe and sound and were at work by noon. 

It was a pretty eventful weekend, to say the least. It was great to see a different part of India, but it was a little sad that I couldn't share it with people I'm close to. I'm surrounded by people all the time, but it can still get pretty lonely. I find myself taking mental notes of things I want to write about, so in a way you're along for the ride.

gv

My First Lengha

I could not have done a worse job packing for this trip. I'm not sure why I didn't bother to do more research before stuffing my giant suitcases, but for the first time in my life I have under packed. I think I was so consumed with packing things that would be hard to find in India that I lost sight of the basics. Case in point, my Aveda shampoo, Origins face products, and Kroger Brand Natural Peanut Butter all made the trip, but I somehow only brought six shirts and not a single pair of sandals. My sweaty feet serve as a daily reminder of this error and I am sorely missing my cushy Adidas flip flops. 

In my defense, I was simultaneously packing for Miss America, a truly challenging task, not to mention a completely opposite mindset. That being said, I have no one to blame but myself. Alas, I have found a handful of shirts to get me through the next few months, and fortunately for me they do laundry every day. 

Speaking of, laundry here is kind of amusing and mildly embarrassing. The house staff empty every one's hamper daily and wash all the clothes together, then return them the next day. It's so fast, I hardly need more than two pairs of underwear. This brings me to the embarrassing part... All of the staff in the house are male. They see everything I wear, and it kind of creeps me out that they can look at me and know what's under my clothes. Also, when I was sick they opted to leave my clothes on the coffee table so as not to bother me, at which time my two male colleagues sharing this apartment and a handful of visitors caught a glimpse of my private life. Oh, and they iron everything, without exception. I laugh to myself every time I imagining the poor guys navigating around my tiniest of clothing with the tip of the iron. Not only do they iron it to get the wrinkles out (and finish drying it in some cases), but they also iron clothes after they're folded so that they looks neat and crisp. This makes for an excellent presentation, but leaves perma-creases in your clothes.  Of course, at the end of the day, someone else is doing my laundry, and I have come to appreciate both the time savings and my daily chuckle.

I've been doing a fair share of shopping since I got here, mostly to make up for my sub par packing job. Today, however, I was on a mission for clothing to wear to a wedding I'm going to in Jaipur. This isn't just any wedding. This is a four day extravaganza for the daughter of an Indian pharmaceutical magnate, whose known for planning great parties and weddings. My colleague, Saloni, took me shopping for traditional Indian attire and I had an absolute blast. The clothes here are just so beautiful and colorful and sparkly, and everything has matching jewelry. It's like a pageant girl's dream.

We went to two different places and I spent hours trying on all kinds of different patterns and styles. We opted against a sari because they're very difficult to tie properly and I won't have anyone to help me at this wedding. Considering it's a garment made from one long piece of fabric, tying it properly is essential to avoid exposing one's underwear to the world, which is a habit I'm trying to break. Instead I bought a trendy Salwar (tunic and pants kind of thing) and a beautiful traditional lengha (long beaded skirt and short top with a long piece of fabric to drape over it). Several bangles, a pair of earrings, and a necklace later and I'm ready to rock this Rajasthani party. Don't worry, I will take lots of pictures. One of them is bound to end up as my Facebook profile pic, I'm sure. I'm also attending an engagement ceremony next weekend, so you might get a sneak peak at the salwar. 

Remember my last post about things being pretty much the same? The styles may be different here, but a woman's affinity for beautiful clothing knows no geographic boundaries. Saloni and I grew up worlds apart, but through the magic of all things girly, we have formed an instant bond. She's amazing, by the way, and I'm really glad to have made a non-expat friend.

gv

Rough Start

I have to apologize for taking so long to write. I had every intention of writing when I first got here, but to be honest, I wasn’t feeling very inspired. Then, when I finally felt like I had something to write about, disaster struck. I encountered a whole host of personal health and hygiene issues over the course of about 24 hours.

I had a disastrous encounter with India, which landed me in bed for two days. Before I left I assumed that if you ate something ‘local’ or drank the water, you might end up spending a little extra time in the bathroom.  However, in my naïveté, I did not realize that this slight discomfort was more like severe stomach cramping, a pounding headache, fever, chills, sweating, nausea, body aches, fatigue, dehydration, and the general inability to move.  I’m completely serious when I say that I slept for 30 hours straight, waking only to visit the Google nurse for some rehydration salts. I spent the next 15 hours watching bad Indian television, wishing I was still sleeping. I haven’t been this sick in years and I do not wish it on anyone. I don’t know what did it to me, but it’s kind of irrelevant. I’m hoping the mini torture session built up some immunity against future GI attacks (pun intended), but from what I hear, repeat performances are far from unheard of.

As for the rest of the story, it will remain untold for now. If at some point I actually find it amusing I will share it with you, but I’m still not laughing about it.

So, my first impression of India, which I still maintain, is that it’s not at all like the India other people described to me. I was expecting to face some serious culture shock, but so far it hasn’t been that different. I’m sure much of that has to do with the fact that I’m still working at Google and we’re treated very well here, but even the authentic experiences I’ve had have not been overwhelming (save for my authentic digestive problems). Yes, the streets are overcrowded with cars, buses, rickshaws, motorbikes, and bicycles. Yes, people stare a lot. Yes, there is blatant poverty. Yes, it’s hot. And yes, there is always someone trying to sell you something or help you in some way. But, so far being in India has shown me much more of the similarities we share across cultures, regardless of our obvious differences. It’s a beautiful country with beautiful people and I feel remarkably at home here.

I was really lucky to have arrived here on time to attend our 2009 India Sales Kickoff event. It was a full day conference where a number of our VIPs spoke and I learned a ton about our India strategy. It’s pretty cool to be a part of a global company and to get this sort of perspective on international business. Some of the teams that received awards performed skits, my favorite being a play off of Slumdog Millionaire, complete with a choreographed dance to Jai Ho. Bollywood culture is so amusing and it’s everywhere. The conference lasted well into the early morning hours with a Bollywood style cover band (the India equivalent of Tainted Love for my fellow Googler readers) and a DJ. We danced like crazy and even made it up on stage at one point. The great thing about dancing here is that everything goes. People just like to have a good time and it’s contagious.

I had a chance to do some site seeing this weekend. I’m actually not a huge history buff, and I usually forget everything I hear, but I love seeing the beautiful architecture and taking in the scenery. We saw a cool monument at the center of Hyderabad called the Charminar and an amazing old palace called Chowmahalla. I have posted some pictures already and will be adding some as the other expats post their albums. Some places charge you to take pictures, so we usually default to one camera and share. You can access my albums by clicking on the link to ‘My Photos’ on the right side of the screen.

I have a bunch of silly stories to share, but it’s late and I have to work early tomorrow. I’m looking forward to writing more regularly now that I’m settled and mostly healthy. Ridiculous things happen every day and I can’t wait to write about some of the simple idiosyncrasies that make living in India so much fun.

My goal for this week is to figure out where exactly I am in Hyderabad and what direction I’m pointing at any given time. I’m still a bit disoriented.

 

gv