Building Bridges and Breaking Barriers

I've often told people that one of the most fascinatingly different things about India is that there are many segmented economies coexisting at all times. On Saturday I may have committed the greatest cultural faux pas of my time here and made two of those economies collide (in my own small way). On Saturday our drivers walked through the gate of Neemrana Fort as paid guests rather than simply dropping us at that gate only to return twenty four hours later. On Saturday they came ziplining with us.

Sir, open that gate!

Lindsay and I have talked about different things we could do for our beloved drivers, Ashok and Kailash. While we're sure tips are always appreciated, we wanted to do something in addition to just throwing some additional money their way. We wanted to provide an experience that they wouldn't otherwise have the opportunity to experience. Selfish on our behalf? Probably. A great experience for all? Absolutely.

After getting settled near the reception area, I walked back to the fort gate to invite "the boys" (what the wife and I affectionately call them) to invite them up. Without hesitation the guard firmly stated, "they're not allowed." This was the first time I had ever really felt like I was in 1950's Mississippi. I replied, "yes, they're going ziplining." His response? "750 rupees each." This is the standard entrance fee (which is exorbitant in my opinion, but it's their rule so I can't really complain) if you're not staying at the fort or using the zipline. My response varied little, "they're paid, going ziplining. The guard still didn't believe me and had to check my printed receipt and still had a couple questions. Begrudgingly, he relented and allowed them to pass. Kailash, who always walks with a bit of a strut, seemed to hold his chest especially high as he passed the guard. For some reason, I was incredibly proud. It's like I helped Kailash with his own little Rosa Parks moment. Selfish on my part? Yep.

Tentative yet smiling before the climb

I had never seen such evidence of the segmented class system here. Normally, drivers wouldn't even consider entering a property like this (and who knows, maybe they don't even want to); however, I was shocked by the level of resistance when they had every right to walk through the gate. In my mind, it was no different than if I had paid for another friend to join; in the mind of the guard, it was entirely different. Regardless, they made it through the gate.

I had tried to describe what we would be doing but wasn't sure how well the concept of ziplining translated. In addition to my weak description, I had assured them that we would have fun. If the way Ashok's eyes bugged out of his head when he first saw someone screaming across the metal cable was any indication, it hadn't translated well at all. Ashok in particular seemed nervous as we got to the top and as he stepped into a harness for the first time. It didn't help matters that as we lined up to go, Kailash (usually the confident one but suddenly more reserved) playfully yet quickly pushed Ashok in front so he would go first. I quickly called him on that and he knew he'd be going first.

By the end of the second zip, much like our other first time guests, all of their fears had eroded and they were having a blast. They even smiled for a couple of pictures, which is a saying a lot more than you might think. Even though Ashok still answered any question with the word "sir" (some habits are probably harder to break than simply having a couple hours away from the car and on a zipline course), they seemed to genuinely enjoy their time and felt like part of the group than simply our drivers that have made our lives incredibly less stressful than they could have been.

Ashok finishes up the second zip

Ashok, I know you're reading this, "ma'am" and I just wanted to say thank you. Dhanyavaad. Ab gari acha chala-tay ho. (I'm sure I butchered that). Please tell Kailash the same.

First Drive in India

It wasn't a long drive nor was it a terribly stressful one; however, I can now lay claim to having driven an automobile in India. Today, I drove home from Galleria Market. The only time my trusty Kailash ever really brings up the idea of me driving is when it's a holiday or a festival. While I'm slightly insulted, it's probably the smart move on his part since the traffic is typically light.

Dussehra, which is today's festival, is no exception. Even with the added degree of difficulty of the stoplights not working, traffic was nearly nonexistent and the drive uneventful. I honked a couple times, passed a couple auto riskshaws, turned a couple times without hitting anything, and successfully navigated my first Indian roundabout.

The most stressful part of the drive was when my pocket started to vibrate and I realized the wife was calling. I threw the phone to Kailash so he could answer (because, you know, safety first). To help alleviate the confusion caused by an Indian voice answering my phone, he said to her, "sir can't talk right now, he's busy driving home." What was she calling about? She wanted to make sure I picked up some Diet Coke at the store. If that isn't a little slice of normal middle American life, I don't know what is.

"Today is a Good Day, Sir"

My morning routine is fairly straightforward. I wake up, eat, read the news or any number of social media for a while, and by around 9:45am I head to the gym (I'm not that unmotivated professionally, I just work later hours). While on this drive to the gym I ask my trusty driver Kailash how he's doing (either in English or Hindi as this is one of my six Hindi phrases). His response usually varies from being fine to the weather. Often, he'll quickly follow up his response with a question that begins with the phrase, "Excuse me, sir, in your country..." where he's curious about how life in "my country" compares to India.

Yesterday, his response varied in the slightest. Yesterday he responded, "I am fine today. Today is a good day, sir" (emphasizing the "good"). A response like this was sure to pique my interest so I asked him why it was such a good day.

By 9:45am, in the amount of time I had woken up, made two or three witty responses (in my clouded just-waking up-mind, at least) to status updates on Facebook, and played a couple rounds of Words with Friends, Kailash had had his mind set on more serious matters. He had set his wedding date.

On November 16, Kailash will marry his fiance Aarti. Will we be invited? Would we attend? I really hope we get invited as it's a wedding invitation that we'd keep forever; unfortunately, assuming we are invited it might be a tough event to attend since it's taking place on a Wednesday in a small village outside Khajuraho in Madhya Pradesh (not exactly easy to get to from Gurgaon in the middle of the week).

Even though he'll be greatly missed for the middle of November, a time right before we end this assignment and head back to the states, I couldn't help but appreciate how genuinely happy he was as he told me his news. Yesterday was definitely a good day.

Exact Change

A couple weeks ago when I went through the toll booth on NH8, which is the primary road between Delhi and Gurgaon, I noticed a sign that read, "Please pay exact amount. Cars Rs. 21." I'm probably not the first person to think it's odd that you would set your toll price at an uneven number like that and have the gall to expect people to have exact change.

It would seem more appropriate to set the toll one rupee less and make it a nice even twenty rupee fee. If revenue is an issue, why not raise even more and make it Rs. 25? Alas, the toll commission (or maybe it's the National Highways Authority of India) decided on Rs. 21 and decided to invest in a sign expecting exact change. With this decision, you'd hope they also made a decision to stock their toll booths with one or two rupee coins. I grew up in western Illinois where there were two strange $0.95 tolls to get to the Chicago area on Interstate 88. I'm pretty sure those toll booths were well stocked with nickels.

Actually better organized than many toll booths in Chicago

On the way back from Delhi on Saturday afternoon, we were stuck in a rather long line at the toll. I was thinking to myself, "it's probably that 21 rupee deal that's forcing everyone to wait for change." Selfishly, we wanted to get through as quickly as possible as we had a staycation weekend planned at The Leela, which is located just on the Gurgaon side of the toll booth. And yes, I realize The Leela is fifteen minutes from my apartment, but we had a free room; you'd take advantage of this too. After waiting patiently in line for a few minutes, we approached the toll booth; finally, we were set to pay the toll and get on with our day. The bus in front of us went through the toll, advanced far enough for my trusty driver Kailash to pay the toll, and stopped. And it didn't advance.

We were trapped. Our weekend getaway blocked literally and figuratively by this large bus. A couple minutes later, the bus driver jumped out of the bus and walked back to the toll attendant. I immediately thought there was some sort of issue where the attendant had given incorrect change on the Rs. 64 toll (buses cost more than cars; exactly Rs. 41 more; again, pricing at its finest). A fairly heated discussion began. Sensing this wasn't going to get better without a little friendly intervention from an over-privileged Westerner, I rolled down the window and very politely asked what was going on. Hearing English, the toll attendant shrugged his shoulders and gave me one of those, "I don't really care that this is inconveniencing you; just deal with it" looks.

Kailash, always the protective one rolled his window down and asked a couple questions in what sounded like a fairly confrontational tone (though to be honest when you hear Hindi spoken it sounds confrontational more often than most languages, it certainly doesn't flow from the tongue like French). From what he was able to ascertain, it wasn't an issue of correct change, it was an issue of the bus driver's refusal to pay a little something on top (i.e., a bribe) to the toll attendant, which apparently is a fairly common occurrence for larger vehicles where, presumably, its not the driver's money being paid. But here's the thing, the bribe was a flat Rs. 10, thus making the total cost to pass for the bus to be Obviously, in the U.S. assessing an additional toll at a tollbooth would be pretty much the easiest way to get one's self fired and/or put in jail. Here, I've come to accept that these things happen, and there's not much I'm going to be able to do in the next eight months to change it.

What I can't understand is: why not make the bribe an additional rupee? It's win/win, Mr. Toll Booth Guy gets a 10% bump and traffic rolls through a little less less encumbered. Of course, this doesn't solve the issue of a bus driver refusing to pay the bribe, so it wouldn't have even mattered. Thankfully, with Kailash remaining somewhat involved and two increasingly agitated expats who may or may not have raised their voice a time or two, the bus pulled forward enough to let us pass. This entire episode likely took between seven to ten minutes, so it's not like we were stranded passengers on a tarmac for hours; however, do you have any idea how long seven minutes feels like when you you're waiting to pass through a toll you've already paid?

Party Planning Made Easy

I'm feeling extremely lazy and perhaps a little more guilty about that laziness than usual. This weekend, tomorrow to be exact, is Lindsay's birthday. Our friend Kristin and I are co-hosting a party tonight for both Lindsay and another friend, Sukhraj, whose birthday was Tuesday. Hosting a party here takes a slightly different effort level than hosting a party in the states.

In the past when I've hosted birthday parties for Lindsay, they've been extremely busy affairs where I've spent the entire day prepping for the party. That prep would start with trips to Costco, the grocery store, and Binny's Beverage Depot. It continues with a day of cooking (back when I used to do that) with Lindsay's Mom and finish by getting the house set up and ready to go. Busy days, to say the least, but I'm going to pat myself on the should and say that I typically do a pretty good job.

Not exactly the same here.

Today, the cook is dealing with all of the food purchasing and preparation. She appears to have a helper (whom I believe is her sister-in-law) in the kitchen with her, so I'm glad someone can help her out. My trusty driver Kailash has been kind enough to find a cooler (in hindsight, probably should have just thrown an extra cooler in the shipment from home) for me and also scout where we need to go to purchase ice. At first he mentioned thinking we'd need to go to the "Toll Plaza Market" (which to be honest, I had never heard of) but found a wine shop at Galleria that would save us some until later in the evening. He also found time to stop and by the wife flowers. I thought it would be a nice touch, you know, since I've been so busy.

While all this has been going on, I've been busy writing and trying to figure out how to organize pictures. We're also expecting a delivery from Sharma Farm, so I can use that as an excuse for why I need to stay close to home. At this point they're two hours late and claiming to just realize that we live in Gurgaon and not Delhi, so I'm thinking that delivery might not take place today.

Regardless, I'm looking forward to a fun party tonight. I'm just glad I could do so much to help get ready for it.

The Newly Discovered Option

I have an iPod. It was purchased in 2004. It doesn't have video. It has a gray screen. It stores 20GB, which seemed like an unlimited supply of music when it was purchased. It still works and for that I am grateful. It is, however, old. When you put it next to a new iPod it looks like an Apple IIc sitting next to a Mac PowerBook. All that said, I didn't realize exactly how old it was until the other day.

Even my playlists are old, though just wait when the college kids hear about this band.

The car provided to us here is the Honda City, which is basically a mini Honda Civic. They're relatively new and clean yet fairly basic modes of transport with few frills. Regardless, they get the job done. I recently learned that if you flipped the face of the radio down, it opened a secret compartment with a USB cable. We never really listen to Indian radio so this cable was the opening to a whole new world of listening to music while in the car. To be honest, when you're always in the car with another person, lack of music doesn't really seem like that big of a thing; however, any new discovery (even something as mundane as a USB cable) seems like a bigger deal here than it really is.

My trusty driver Kailash piloting the Honda City

I plugged my iPod into the car and expected instant gratification. The display on the radio said, "Loading...", which as you might expect I took as a good sign. A few seconds later the display switched. It read "Old iPod" and was followed by silence. My dream was dashed. Temporarily.

Not to be defeated, a few days later I remembered (I can be a little slow at times) that the wife had a slightly newer iPod. I went through the routine again. After the display read, "Loading", something magical happened. The iPod started to play. It would only play the playlist that was previously playing but alas there was music. I was fairly certain I could at least change the song by hitting the "forward" button the radio, but when you're being chauffered around, it can be a little awkward to reach into the front seat. Plus, I can't say "next song" in Hindi and didn't feel like I really needed to bother the driver to change the song. Regardless, I was happy to just have music in the car, even though I really hadn't missed it.

On Sunday we headed into Delhi and I figured I'd bring the iPod along for the ride. Ashok, our Sunday driver and the driver I consider to be Lindsay's, stepped out of the vehicle to call for directions to Sharma Farms (more on that in the next couple days) and I took the opportunity to plug the iPod into the USB. When Ashok hopped back in the car, he seemed surprised that there was music playing. He immediately flipped down the radio cover, pulled out a small object, and said, "Here, sir." Surprised, he handed me a remote control. To be honest, I wasn't sure if I was surprised that there was a remote or that my trusty driver Kailash (with whom we had made the working iPod revelation) had neglected to tell me about the remote the day before.

The remote (with Ashok safely navigating a roundabout in the background) 

I'm just relieved that my "stuck on one playlist/song" issue that I discovered the day before had magically disappeared. Such are the issues you encounter when you're stuck riding in the back of a car seat for two years.

My International Driver's License

While researching our upcoming holiday trip to Bali, source after source mentioned how an international driver's license was required to drive on the island. I honestly neither knew this license existed nor how to go about getting one. If caught without a license, the punishment varies but the prevailing scenario seems to be that one pays the cop off at the going rate, somewhere between $10 - $20, depending on how much cash the cop thinks you're carrying. Since we're planning to spend a majority of the trip driving around the island, I decided to lock in my expense and get the license. Perhaps I'm more risk averse than I like to think.

What does it take to get a license? You pretty much go to this website, fill out the application, send in an electronic copy of your signature, passport photo, and current valid government-issued driver's license, select your method of delivery, and two to ten business days later you have a license.

Pretty sure if there's ever a "wanted" sign for me, this is the picture they'll use

The most impressive part of this entire process was that I actually received the license. With time being of the essence, I was forced to select DHL international express shipping, which goes for the low, low price of $59. Or, said another way, three to six Indoensian bribes. Not needing the undo attention in the event of pullover or two (which apparently are fairly common for visitors), I easily justified the added expense. Having placed the order on Monday morning, I was shocked when my driver pulled it out as he dropped me off tonight. And yes, I realize that sounds ridiculous, but thankfully both our drivers are friendly with the building guards and have some sort of system worked out to get us our packages. Whatever it takes; I'm not one to complain.

With my new international license in hand, which even though until two weeks ago I had no idea even existed is valid in any United Nations country, I'm allowed to drive just about anywhere. I can't wait to whip it out to my trusty driver Kailash, tell him to hit the passenger seat, and take him on a little ride through the streets of Gurgaon.

Roadside Flowers

For months I've ridden past the small stalls and shops that line most of the streets in Gurgaon from the relative comfort of the backseat of my Honda City. In our part of town, barbers, fruit stalls, key makers, and florists seem to make up the bulk of commerce. Intrigued by the idea of a roadside haircut yet fearful of the impact of getting knicked by a stray blade, having found other means to acquire fresh fruit, and having a full supply of the necessary keys, my most logical entrance into the roadside economy was the florist.

Traditional view of roadside florist from the backseat of speeding car

On the way home from, interestingly enough, a haircut over the weekend, I asked my trusty driver Kailash, "Kailash, where would we go to buy flowers for ma'am?" He thought for a second, went straight past the apartment, took a U-turn at the golf course, and stopped the car at the closest possible shop. Unfortunately, the flowers were there but the florist was nowhere to be seen. Strike one. Kailash thought again and headed toward Super Mart-I to the stall set up on the main road just outside the shopping center. He parked on the road and we both approached to check out what was being offered (I wanted to participate to some extent but figured the pricing structure might be a little different if Kailash negotiated; though I'm sure his ability was somewhat limited when flanked by a tall, goofy white dude).

Kailash quickly learned the stems I liked were offered at INR 12 per (around $0.25). Seemed fair enough so we told the guy to start a bundle. A few minutes later he had prepared a bouquet, complete with ribbon tied around the stems. The full price? INR 150.

$3 bouquet next to our Christmas decoration

The lesson learned? For a little over three bucks, I can get a legitimately nice bouquet of flowers to take home for the wife. I have no idea why it's taken me this long to realize this fact.

The Not So Hidden Motivation of an Indian Rental Car Driver

While in Kerala, the itinerary included flying into Cochin where we stayed a couple days, driving four or five hours south to Kovalam, and ultimately flying out of Trivandrum, which for all you fellow geography buffs, is very near the southern tip of India. As a result of this itinerary, it’s the first trip we’ve taken in our nearly eight months where we’ve needed to rent a car. For those unfamiliar with what comes with the cost of car rental, it’s quite frequently the car, the driver, a local guide, and a number of “suggestions” on where to spend our hard earned money. We had been through the drill before, but it had been a number of years.

The driver was dutifully waiting for us at the airport exit, holding a sign for “Mr. Kristin Grimm.” Far be it from them to expect a woman to actually rent a car. Making the correct assumption that the sign was for us, Kristin, her friend John, Lindsay and myself hopped into our rented Innova. Apparently, Shahul hadn’t received the message that we were in charge of our own itinerary and had every last second planned. He instructed us that he’d drop us at the hotel, give us time to relax, and that he’d be back at 6:00 pm to take us to dinner. Even after we said, “6:30”, he tried to convince us that 6:00 was better.

A few minutes later he started wondering what type of shopping we were interested in, which is Indian driver code for, “what type of emporium would you like me to take you so that I can collect my commission?” After learning that Lindsay, myself, and Kristin were PAN card carrying Indian residents, he quickly turned to John and asked if he’d be interested in Kashmiri shawls. Thankfully, John has been to India enough that he realized that you couldn’t get much further away from Kashmir than Cochin and still be in India.

Later that night, around 7:30 when we actually left the hotel for dinner, we were greeted sullenly by Shahul. He wasn’t disappointed that we were 90 minutes later than his original itinerary had dictated but it seemed that his daughter had taken unwell. As a result, he wouldn’t be with us the next day as he’d be spending time at the hospital and that a replacement driver would be with us for the rest of our trip. While it’s entirely possible that his daughter was sick, it’s even more possible that this was just an exit story to stick a less experienced driver with a low commission fare for the next few days. He still found time to take us to his "preferred" seafood restaurant even though we knew exactly where we wanted to go. Lindsay and Kristin actually humored him to check the menu at "his" place. John and I knew didn't bother. After that not so obvious move, I was pretty much done with Shahul and his sick daughter.

Even though the new driver ultimately took us to a ridiculously overpriced spice market, he at least listened. Score one for the new driver.

Slowly Learning Hindi - Update #2

On the way to the office this morning, I received one of the more thoughtful gifts in some time that didn't involve multiple flavors of Crystal Light from a very surprising source. My trusty driver Kailesh, whose English courses the wife decided we'd help subsidize (she's far more charitable than myself), slowed the car and reached to the passenger seat, producing a small Hindi-English phrasebook. Initially, I thought he was just showing me a book he had purchased as part of his course, but it quickly became obvious that the book was a "thank you" for the support and intended to aid the painfully flat learning curve associated with my Hindi skills.

More important than the gift (though it was much needed and even more appreciated), was the absolute joy Kailesh expressed when offering it. He stopped the car and quickly opened the book, picked a page, and read: "English word, 'My name is Robert, I have a  reservation here'; Hindi word, 'mera nam Robert hai, yaham mere nam se kamra araksit hai.' Now your turn!" After I struggled through the translation a time or two (and yes, I absolutely had to go back to the book to get the Hindi translation), he seemed content with my progress and drove the final way to work.

As an expat, there are ups and there are downs. Admittedly, it's much more fun to write about the good and, in India, the quirky and frustrating. It's also more difficult and admittedly rare to express what can sometimes be considered the outright bad,. But it's moments like the drive to work this morning that help on those difficult days and help make this entire experience worthwhile.

Kailesh, ap gari accha chala chelo.

(Hopefully, that's a real sentence.)

Indian Poker

While on our "looksie" trip in November, the wife and I were playing an innocent game of gin rummy in the Crowne Plaza lobby and were quickly told to put the cards away as it was basically considered gambling. As a result, I had no intention of finding a poker game while here and didn't even bringing a set of chips with me from home. So you can imagine my surprise when I received an email at 10:09pm on Friday night from a friend from home, Paul Williams, who's randomly here in Gurgaon for a two-week work trip. The email read simply:

This is going to sound strange but I found a local poker game with some co-workers tonight - interested?

Um, interested? Even with the inferiority complex of having been in India for over seven months with not so much as hearing the word "poker" while Paul had been here for all of six days, of course I was interested. However, I knew the wife had had a very long week and figured I'd better be served playing the part of supportive husband. When she arrived home a few minutes later, I mentioned in passing what Paul had offered and she looked at me crazy and said, "Yeah, of course you've got to go." To emphasize her point, she called the driver and said, "Ashok, sorry, but can you come back? Sir needs to go someplace." Who was I to complain? She's pretty awesome. A few minutes later Ashok was back at the apartment and I was handing a slip of paper with a random address to find my first poker game.

After getting close enough in the car, I walked around a locked gate and found my way to the correct house, which ended up being a guest house owned by a friend of one of Paul's co-workers. It felt a little like a cross between a safe house and a sparsely furnished bachelor pad. Pretty much the perfect place for a card game.

If there had been college football playing in the background, it could have just as easily have been a game in my basement in Lake Zurich. Well, except at the games in Lake Zurich there aren't houseboys scurrying around to bring plates of fried appetizers. In no way was I surprised when they starting bringing out chafing dishes at midnight to prepare the buffet table. From here on, I'm just going to assume that if I'm invited to a social gathering of any kind that is hosted by an Indian that I can pretty much count on a full meal served after midnight. I'm pretty sure that's just the way it is.

The game itself was enjoyable; as in most casual games, there was a variety of characters; including the guy that just looks at the game as means for social interaction that cares little about the money, the guy who's sort of part of the group but is obviously a much better player than the rest and knows he's going home with money in his pocket, and the first-timer that doesn't understand the game, likes it a little too much, and keeps throwing money out of wallet to try and learn the game. Plus, at this game there were two random Americans keenly observing the entire scene and situation.

That scene lasted until around 2:30am when I determined it was probably best to make an exit and minimize the silent disapproval I'd receive from the driver when getting picked up. In all honesty, if someone had pulled on me what I had pulled on him, I'd be a little upset. Basically, he thought he was being released from duty 90 minutes early, was called back shortly after being released, and then had to finish out his shift and work 3 or 4 hours of overtime. If this had happened in America, I would have received a big "EF YOU" right around the time the phone call was made to request him to return to duty.

While I felt guilty and bad for Ashok, I must admit it was nice to just act like a retarded dude for the first time in nearly eight months.

Slowly Learning Hindi - Update #1

I'm halfway through the first week of my recommitment to learn at least some Hindi. It's safe to assume that the "informal tier" described in this recent post will be the most effective tier (and yes, it's also the only tier that's been put in motion). For those unwilling to read the prior post, it's my agreement with Kailesh, my trusty driver, to teach me Hindi as he's honing his English, which is actually quite good for someone I can only assume has learned what he knows completely on his own. However, it seems in preparation for the English class in which he enrolled he's taken it upon himself to start my Hindi lessons early.

After three or four days I'm making a little progress but no part of my control or understanding of any part of the language could qualify as even sub-rudimentary. He's focusing on teaching me how to tell him where I need to go. In fact, I can now tell him to take me someplace fairly politely, "Kailesh, Palms Club jana eh" ("Kailesh, I'm going to the Palms Club") or as more of a command, "Kailesh, Palms Club chalo" ("Kailesh, take me to the Palms Club!"). He does seem to appreciate when I get back in the car from the Palms Club and say, "Kailesh, gur jana eh" ("Kailesh, I'm going home"). As you can tell, my command of the word "jana eh" is exemplary and will become my most overused verb.

I actually appreciate him focusing on this part of the language. Not only will I have a chance to communicate with (or surprise) any unruly taxi drivers, but I can also show off in front of unsuspecting visitors when picking them up from the airport.

My primary concern is that my capacity for learning might not meet Kailesh's high expectations. As he dropped me off at the office this morning, he was obviously quite excited with my progress (in the spirit of full disclosure, he mentioned that I seem to be a slightly better pupil than the wife) and started saying something to the effect of, "You must now practice your new words. Today at work, there will be people that speak Hindi. You must practice with them!" I didn't realize I had signed up for homework assignments courtesy of the driver.

Tomorrow I may need to start taking notes....

To Learn or Not to Learn

On the drive to the gym this morning, my driver Kailesh informed me that he was planning to begin an English language course in September and that, if the wife and I were OK with it, he'd be unavailable from 6:00am - 7:00am each day for three months. Considering his shift doesn't typically begin until 8:00am; no complaints. If it had interfered, totally different story...

I'm kidding, of course. I think the wife may have actually agreed to pay for the course, which may have been Kailesh's strategy all along. It's safe to say we would have found a way to work around it if the time wasn't so convenient. Though, special points go to the ingenuity of whoever is offering an English course targeted at drivers and the like as the 6:00am - 7:00am time slot, based on my experience, is pretty much an open slot in the Indian culture.

The reason I write of this is that it really raises a question which is, not surprisingly, more selfish: Why exactly haven't I put forth the effort to learn Hindi?

Granted, Kailesh arguably has a lot more to gain economically from his decision than I would to learn Hindi, but let's be honest, I'm living in a country (for two years after having lived here six months previously) and have made zero effort. It's embarrassing. There really is no good answer.

I've determined a three tiered approach will work best: formal education, informal conversation, and bribery. For formal education, I'll be dusting off the Rosetta Stone from the laptop hard drive. The two times I tried it, it actually seemed an effective learning method for me. For informal conversation, I've made a deal with Kailesh that he'll start to teach me as he learns English better. Of course, I'm basically his boss so I have the power to revoke this at any time. Finally, for the bribery piece I'm going to put some sort of candy bowl at my desk at work. Indians, in my experience at work, love candy. The deal will be simple, take a piece of candy, teach me a word or phrase in Hindi and write it on a note card, English on one side, phonetic Hindi on the other so I have some way to remember it.

Of course, if this is the last you hear of my three tiered learning approach, just assume I'm a unilingual ignoramus being chauffeured around by an English speaking driver. Man, I hope he doesn't quit....

My First Expatriate "Honey Do" List

With Lindsay headed back to the airport in a couple hours to participate in the nuptials of Melissa, her best friend from childhood (if there are other childhood friends reading this, deal with it), I thought I'd provide a quick update on my plans over the next ten or so days while she's gone....

• Take two 3-day weekends
• Watch the Germany/Argentina World Cup match from the airport Radisson (actually a lot less depressing than it sounds) 
• Attend the U.S. embassy's Fourth of July celebration 
• Travel someplace in India for the non-holiday weekend; the probable destination is Dharamshala, exiled home of the Dalai Lama 
• Some sort of time at the pool 
• Order pizza online (which to a non-Hindi speaking foreigner is approximately seventeen times easier than trying to place an order over the phone) 
• Start those Hindi lessons back up on Rosetta Stone 
• Conduct a scientific experiment with respect to the tap water quality in our apartment 
• Repeat that same experiment with repsect to the filtered water in our apartment (not sure I want the results to this) 
• If time allows, journey alone into old Delhi (note, "alone" includes the assistance of my trusty driver, Kailish) 

Yep, it's going to be an exciting (and potentially busy) few days. Oh yeah, and congratulations Melissa!

The Plight of the Stray Dog

There are a lot of dogs in India. Stray dogs. Pretty much wherever you turn there's a stray dog laying in the sun or roaming around aimlessly. I'm not going to lie, the strays around here aren't exactly the cute little strays you might want to take home from the local pound; for the most part, they're malnourished, filthy, and often have mange. It's one of the things, for better or worse, you just kind of accept here as there's really nothing you can do to help the plight of the Indian stray dog. Out of morbid curiousity, I must admit that I have thought, "Do these dogs ever get hit by cars?" (Note, one thing you don't see much, if at all, is road kill, so while highly improbable  that no dogs get hit, it's a more valid question than you might think.)

On the way home from the gym this morning, I learned firsthand that those dogs do, in fact, get hit by cars. We were just about to turn into the apartment complex when a mangey black stray ran out in the middle of the road. There was a car in the "lane" next to us on our right, which is to say it was literally a dog's width away from us. For a second I thought the dog might have lucked out and ended up in that dog's width gap. If anything, based on it's location I thought the other car might nip it. Then as we passed, I heard the thud. Not sure exactly what to do or say, I finally decided on telling Kailish, "I think you hit him." As you can tell, I was firing on all cylinders. He just kind of acknowledged it with a sheepish shrug. In a split second I started to think through what the protocol might be for the offending driver that hits a non-bovine animal (knowing full well that the protocol was to just keep driving). Not a second later, the dog popped up and crossed behind the car and limped away on three legs.

On the bright side, the dog lived; on the not so bright side, I'm now fairly confident that, even with the lack of physical evidence, this is a fairly common occurrence in Gurgaon.

Return of the Rickshaw

The auto rickshaw is a very visible symbol of inexpensive Indian transportation, something you see nearly every day, yet we hadn't had the need to utilize one during this assignment until our weekend in Udaipur. Most rickshaws are green, dirty, old, and probably not the safest mode of transportation. What we initially found in Udaipur was the exact opposite (well, probably minus the safety part). The hotel had a custom rickshaw that was painted a color to match the other hotel vehicles, appeared to be brand new, and even had custom throw pillows and curtains. Basically, it was the anti-rickshaw version of a rickshaw.

We decided it would be a fun way to go to dinner so we rented it for a couple hours. Unfortunately, the gleaming new rickshaw wasn't a very reliable mode of transportation. By the time we made three turns from the hotel gate into the narrow winding streets of Udaipur, the driver had stalled and it quickly became evident that he had no way to fix it. It didn't seem to help that the children of the city found the hotel's stalled rickshaw enthralling and quickly circled the wounded vehicle. After we emerged from the backseat, Lindsay and her camera became instant celebrities. While they enjoyed having their picture taken, they seemed to enjoy seeing themselves on the screen even more. As Lindsay was busy making friends, the driver was busy pushing the rickshaw back to the hotel. Once back to the hotel, they called us a local rickshaw.

A few minutes later, we met Abdul Hakim who ended up becoming our personal rickshaw driver / tour guide for the weekend. While his rickshaw didn't contain the unnecessary creature comforts like throw pillows and embroidered ceiling fabric, it was easily the nicest "regular" rickshaw I'd ever seen. That night he drove us the ten or so minutes to and from dinner at a slightly discounted price compared to the hotel's rickshaw, and we made plans for him to take us around the city the next day (he was enterprising enough to recognize he could meet an otherwise unmet need of having no idea of where to go or what to do).

We had expected just some one to take us from Point A to Point B throughout the day; however, Hakim quickly exceeded those expectations. Of course, we had no idea how much we were paying him because when asked, "How much?" he simply replied "As you wish." After an hour or so stop at the City Palace, where Hakim had a registered guide waiting for us, he took us through the narrow streets to the city center. As we were headed in that direction he said, "I take you to city center. That is the real India." He wasn't lying. It was a phenomenal local market with tea and other spices surrounding the perimeter and a couple dozen produce stands on the ground in the middle. All around were women in brightly colored saris and other traditional garments. It's always fun to get out of the typical tourist circuit and see what life is like in these periphery cities.

After walking through the market, we headed to one of the "other" lakes in Udaipur, Fateh Sagar, which promised to actually have water. The primary (and most famous lake) is Lake Pichola, but it's seasonal and had basically dried until the late summer's monsoons hit. The thing I was most interested in Fateh Sagar was that it was where Hakim said there was less traffic and where he'd let us drive the rickshaw. I really I could say I then drove the ricksahw through the winding streets barely missing pedestrians, dogs, and elephants; however, he stayed int he front seat and basically kept his hands on the wheel the whole time. Driving a rickshaw is a lot like driving a motorcycle, of which I'm not terribly experienced, so Hakim probably made a wise decision to protect his investment.

The best part of the weekend was how we turned the very lazy decision of renting the overpriced hotel rickshaw into a nice little adventure with a local guide. Even if we overpaid Hakim (I'm certain we did), it was better than being "those" tourists getting wheeled around town in a prissy vehicle taking looks of scorn from the locals and other tourists.

As an unsolicited plug, if you're ever in Udaipur and want a local guide (we later learned he also had a taxi so longer excursions are also possible), I'd highly recommend Hakim. Here's his contact information:

Abdul Hakim

hakimabdul61@yahoo.com

+91 98292 76923

Maps are (Unfortunately) Optional

As a child I was pretty much a dork; a dork that enjoyed maps. My family took a number of cross country trips in the U.S. which provided ample time for me to peruse the latest Rand McNally Road Atlas that the State Farm agent provided each year. When that got boring, I'd switch over to the Information Please Almanac. Let's just say by the time I reached junior high I thought I knew more than just about anyone about American geography. Sadly, in the seventh grade I would finish second in the school's qualifying round for the National Geographic Geography Bee. In the spirit of full disclosure, I came back triumphantly and claimed the title in the eighth grade, earning a trip to the Illinois finals, only to be crushed in the opening round.

So maybe my knowledge of meaningless geographical facts wasn't as impressive as I initially thought; however, you can imagine that I'm the type of person that likes to know where on the map he's located and where on the map he's headed. Unfortunately, in India maps are nearly non-existent (though there is a Delhi map book sponsored by the fine folks at Eicher which can be fun to peruse when the excitement on the outside the car dies down). In fact, many locations don't have addresses in the traditional sense. If you were out in Chicago, you might ask a cabbie to take you to 1060 W. Addison Street, and he would know exactly where to take you. You know, because it's a specific location. In India, it doesn't necessarily work that way. Most addresses are landmark-based. You might ask the driver to take you to the "Infinity Building, DLF Phase I, Ground Floor, Near Microsoft." Literally, addresses often have the word "near" proceeding a location just to get you close.

Unfortunately, this system seems to work, and I fear that I'm acclimating to the method. Roads aren't on any sort of grid, and many don't even have obvious names, so traditional addresses wouldn't even make sense (in a future post, I'll decipher the notation for places that have specific addresses in Gurgaon; I'm still catching on but it's slowly beginning to make sense). I have no idea what road our health club is on even though I go there multiple times per week. However, if a temporary driver happens to show up on a given morning, I can easily point him toward a landmark close to the health club. And the thing is, it always works, which is especially helpful because there's still something of a language barrier with drivers (in other words, my computer-based Hindi lessons haven't progressed as quickly as I'd hoped). I'm sorry to report that this landmark-based method for navigation seems to be here to stay, and there's not much I can (or actually really want to) do about it.

I promise though, that when this experience is over I'll go back to being one of those people that says, "go half a mile, turn right on Rand; go another three-quarters of a mile, and turn left on IL-22, go another four tenths of a mile and it will be on your left" rather than someone that says, "look for the big water tower; when you get close, you'll see a guy holding a signboard for a mattress sale, take a left there and then drive slow to make sure you don't miss the brick building; if you see Target, you've gone too far."

The Basic Deal With Drivers

The General Setup

Most self respecting westerners (or at least any westerner whose company car lease strictly forbids driving) has the support of a driver while in India. The particulars of the setup can vary widely. For our situation, we technically have what is called a “cab” here that means it’s a commercial vehicle, almost like a livery in the U.S. However, the only difference between a “cab” and another car is the color of the license plate. Since Lindsay and I are technically here on two separate assignments, we each get a car as part of our benefits. As a result, we have better access to transportation than many other expats we’ve met here. The reason? Drivers/cars are typically available six days a week for twelve hour shifts. Based on this setup, Lindsay and I have a car start early, a car start late, and give one car off each day of the weekend. The net result is something like 18 hours of coverage of weekdays and 12 hours of coverage on weekends. If we extend beyond that time, there is a nominal charge (i.e., the car just doesn’t disappear if you’re out to dinner and you hit the end of a shift).

The Cars

Lindsay and I each have a Honda City, which is the smallest Honda car sold in India and slightly smaller than the Honda Civic with which you may be familiar. While this might seem too small, especially if you’re familiar with my size (i.e., six-one and 200-ish pounds), when the front seats are set especially far to the front (which is always the case on the passenger size and basically the case on the driver side…the typical Indian driver is considerably smaller than my six-one, 200 pound frame), there’s enough room to comfortably fit. Plus, they’re stylishly black in color, which I had the good fortune to pick during the car selection phase of the assignment.

The Drivers

The subculture of the Indian driver is interesting, to say the least, to those that are unfamiliar with India. The reality is that they’ve chosen a profession where they’re basically at the beck and call of their employer. Our drivers literally report at the given time by giving a “missed call” (i.e., they call and let the phone ring once and hang up; basically their unofficial way to punch into the clock). They then sit around and wait until we’re ready to go wherever we’re going. At our apartment complex, there’s a drivers’ waiting room where the drivers congregate to play cards, read the paper, etc. Personally, nothing would frustrate me more than participating in a card game where yourself or another player could be called away at any given time. I wonder if they have rules for this scenario. When we go where we’re going, they find a place to park or some other unknown place where drivers congregate and wait for us to finish. When we’re ready to be picked up, we simply call and a couple minutes later they reappear. The most frequent phone call I make consists of the following conversation:

Kailish (who you’ll meet in a minute): “Hello, sir”

Me: “Kailish, can you come pick me up?”

Kalisih: “Coming!” (Note, recently this conversation has become more efficient by him simply answering and saying, “Hello, sir, coming.”)

Kailish – The Early Shift Driver

I have no idea how old Kailish is, but there’s a good chance that he wouldn’t be able to legally drive in the U.S. unless he was a farm kid in Iowa. He’s a smart guy; at times, I worry he’s too smart and will find a way to get out of the driving business which would probably be good for him but bad for me. He quickly learned our routine and basically knows where we’re going before we tell him. We’ve had our share of difficult drivers in our time in India, but Kailish is prompt, waits in obvious places when we’re out, and isn’t afraid to quickly get directions if he doesn’t know where we need to go (sorry, that last sentence sounded like feedback for his annual review). All things that would seem positive traits that a driver should posses, but not as common as you would hope. At first glance, Kailish has a fairly cushy gig for a driver. He reports at 8am and typically is released by noon or 1:00pm.

Depending on our schedule, his routine usually entails taking one or both of us to the gym, waiting there, taking Lindsay to work, stopping at home briefly with me so I can take gym bags out of the trunk, and then driving me the 45 seconds it takes to get to my office. On especially busy days, when Lindsay goes to the gym early, he might be forced to shuffle between us. Initially, I thought this to be a good deal for him as he’d have the rest of the day to do as he please. However, after a strangely complex conversation I had with him recently (I was shocked at the well-developed level of his English) he informed me that he routinely works 16 to 18 hour days. So once we release him, he takes on other rides. This makes me feel a little less guilty about keeping him around longer through the day if there’s a chance we might need him. I’ve got to think it’s “better” for him to stay with a ride longer than to have to shuffle between. I’m fairly positive his pay remains the same (i.e., the company gets the benefit of his availability but probably has him on some daily wage regardless).

Ashok – The Late Shift Driver

I actually know very little about Ashok as I typically only see him one day a week on the weekends and occasionally on a Friday night if we go out for dinner after work. I was shocked to learn (through Lindsay who had learned through Kailish) that Ashok has a one-year old son. This seemed particularly surprising because Ashok, much like Kailish, looks no older than 15.

Ravi – The Former Driver

He was quite possibly the worst driver we’ve ever had. While his reference to the “Ravi-car” versus the “Kailish-car” was somewhat endearing and helped us determine which car to expect when, his penchant for pissing people off was not. Here's a quick rundown of our time with Ravi:

• He quickly made enemies with the security guards in our complex by taking short-cuts (i.e., the American way) to make right turns in the neighborhood roundabouts.
• He took "shortcuts" that took longer than the actual route; typically these shortcuts were through private parking areas where, again, the guards would yell not so nice things at him
• He routinely argued with people on the phone when asking directions to the place we were headed (even though the person he was arguing with was at the intended destination).
• He would call Lindsay multiple times each day to confirm or confuse the time that she needed to be picked up from work.
• He routinely would take 10 – 15 minutes to show up when called (or after the time he had quadruple confirmed with Lindsay; apparently when the two parties don't speak the same language fluently these types of mishaps can occur).
• He decided to stop wearing his uniform (ordinarily, I wouldn’t have minded the no-uniform thing, it’s a little unnecessary; however, if you’re supposed to wear it, wear it). Plus, the driver uniform (kind of like a cruise ship officer's) looks a little odd when you're wearing the pants and a black untucked t-shirt.
• He gave off the aura that he may or may not have been stoned from time to time.

Add all those things together and throw in the fact that Lindsay had just finished the book “White Tiger” which is a novel written as a first-person narrative of an Indian driver that kills his employer, and Ravi’s days were obviously numbered.

The Conclusion?
For most foreigners (myself included) having a driver is either a necessity or a necessary evil. It can be endlessly frustrating if you have no idea where you're going and they have no idea where you're going, but as long as you have a phone number, an Eicher Delhi Map Guidebook, or are humble enough to ask directions, you're typically going to get where you need to get. And since the idea of being on time has different cultural meanings here entirely, you're typically not even late.

Can Expats Drive in India?

The short answer? Yes. The long answer? The current company lease on our car strictly forbids me from getting behind the wheel; however, driving in India has always been one of my secret little goals. (No worries, parents and in-laws before you read any further, it’s still an unmet goal). I don’t necessarily need to go overboard and drive myself 100% of the time; however, there are times when I miss the independence that driving affords. Our neighbors Pierre and Loes, who have been here for quite some time, have a driver during the week but drive themselves on the weekend. Yesterday, we went to lunch and hopped in the car with them. Shortly after we got home, I realized that it was the first time I had relied on any sort of transportation (besides walking myself to and from work) in the country of India that wasn’t directly provided by someone from India.

Seeing Pierre drive did make me think, how hard can driving be? I mean, I’ve now lived in Gurgaon for nearly four months so it’s not like I don’t know where to go. I’ve lived in India for nearly ten months of my life, so I’m familiar enough with the natural flow (or chaotic nature, depending on your attitude on a give day) of traffic and the general rules (perhaps "suggestions" is more appropriate?) of the road. Plus, much to the surprise of everyone that I talk to here, I’m one of the 47 Americans that still prefers to drive a standard transmission. Of course, you shift with your left hand here, but I’ve done that in Ireland before. With all that going for me, why wouldn’t I drive here? In addition, I honestly think that driving has become more westernized here. It doesn’t mean that people have gone all crazy and decided to follow all stop lights and drive in actual lanes, but I do have a theory as to the root of the change over the past five years primarily involving the economics of the country. To state the obvious, India is a wealthier country now than it was when I was first in India in late 2004. People are buying nicer cars and seem to be driving them more themselves. As a result, you have more actual owners of nicer vehicles driving on the road rather than more hired drivers of not-so-nice vehicles on the road. Who do you think takes more pride and care with their car on the road; the owner of a shiny new 3-series or some guy making $100 a month) driving a beat up Ford Ikon? (Note, I have no idea what the actual salary of a driver is, but I remember it being in the neighborhood of $60 a month in 2005, so I’m adjusting upward for inflation.)

There are other issues that would arise from driving, such as finding a place to park (one really, really nice thing about having a driver is that you get dropped off and picked up at the door); however, I think I’m getting closer to the point where I think I could get behind the wheel and successfully navigate the streets of Gurgaon - driving anywhere outside around a 5 km radius from the house would still be entirely out of the question...I mean, have you see the way people drive here?