The Move, Part 2 (The Direction-Givers)

Last Sunday’s highlights were both Lindsay-based. The first, watching her reaction when we went to the local bagel shop, and the second, watching her get uncharacteristically fidgety when filling out the country club application. I’ve never seen someone so nervous around what was basically a receptionist – of course, now that I make fun, we’ll probably not make it through the screening/interview phase in a week or so, becoming the laughingstock of the Gurgaonite expat community in the process. The next big event was the arrival of our air freight, scheduled for 9:30am Monday morning. Based on the horror stories we had heard from others, we were expecting its arrival anytime from noon to 4pm and that it would be an all day affair.

At 9:30 sharp, the doorbell rang, and there were two guys there, one obviously the leader and direction-giver, and the other obviously the laborer. I fully expected the rest of my day to be filled with watching the direction-giver ordering the laborer around (I’m not sure what that makes me). Not two minutes later, three additional guys showed up, all carrying boxes, and what I witnessed next was completely unexpected – that is, a fully efficient moving machine. Even with two direction-givers (i.e., the actual direction-giver and Lindsay), they moved in everything, unpackaged, got it relatively in the right spot, didn't break a thing, and removed all the packaging in no more than 45 minutes. If you’ve been to India, you’ll appreciate just how unfuckingbelievable that is.

Undoubtedly, Lindsay wins the prize for finding the “right” 500 pounds of stuff to include in the air freight – namely, a foam mattress pad, featherbed, pillows, and our sheets from home. It’s nice to have a few more clothes and shoes and don’t get me wrong, picture frames with familiar faces throughout the apartment are a comforting touch (as I type this, I can look over and see a picture of Lindsay with Hammes and Immel and a picture of the Acacia crowd from the 2006 Raleigh Winter Games, appropriately positioned on the bar…Hammes and Immel, you’re actually on the bar as well), but nothing compares to the comfort of somewhat feeling like you’re in your own bed, even if it means we “give up” the luxury of having twice a week linen service because we have our own sheets.  It’s a very small price to pay.

What better way to celebrate a successful move than a jaunt to MG Road (hereby referred to “Mall Road” thanks to our driver’s limited English and our still-nonexistent Hindi) for a nice little lunch at TGI Friday’s! Even though everyone here refers to it as “the place” to get Mexican, Lindsay decided it was time to venture out of her comfort zone and went with what she described as “delightful” barbeque chicken salad (note, if you order any kind of uncooked vegetable in a restaurant not associated with a 5-star hotel, you’re pretty much playing roulette); whereas, I took the advice of the waiter and went with the chicken chimichanga. Healthy? No. Delightful? Not entirely. Palatable?  Sure. I can’t comprehend why decent chicken-based Mexican food has not made its way to India, it’s not like the tastes are THAT different. Lindsay claims it’s because of the lack of tortillas. You have as good of an idea as I do on the basis on that claim.  At any rate, if someone could open a decent Mexican restaurant here, I’m quite certain it would do well. I’m surprised Taco Bell hasn’t made a run in India, it’s not like there’s beef in their tacos anyway.

After lunch, we made a few stops at various shopping establishments for some finishing touches to the apartment (including my third stop in three days at ElectiCity for a bevy of surge protecting power strips and power converters; there’s a distinct lack of outlets here) and made our way back home, where we had a self-cooked meal for the first time in nearly a month. No worries though, we’re in the process of rectifying the “self-cook” concept and hope to have a solution in place within a week or so.