A Long Rakhi Saturday in Delhi

Saturday was Rakhi, a festival meant for siblings. Since my sisters both live far, far away and didn't react terribly positive to last year's open letter explaining the festival, I didn't celebrate. Since we're good people (or like to think that), we told Kailash (our Saturday driver) that he could come at 11:30am so that he could celebrate with friends (his sister still lives in their home village near Khajuraho). Even with that late start, it seemed like a very long day.

Tying a Rakhi bracelet at Khan Market

Due to the festival, the streets were fairly empty when the day started. Much of the traffic was husbands transporting their wives to meet their brothers. You know it's a holiday when the women are dressed up. Saturday, the saris were out in full effect. Rug shopping was just the beginning. After our failed second stop, we headed for Khan Market. Somehow, regardless where we're going or what we plan to do, Lindsay finds a way to get us back to Khan Market. On the bright side, I had some items ready at the tailor so I'm now three shirts richer.

After a late afternoon snack, we went to Lagpat Nagar so Lindsay could get her hair cut and colored. Rather than talking about the color, let's just move on. While she was busy there, I headed to buy some travel magazines and decided to make a stop at India Gate since the sun was close to setting. In preparation for Independence Day, they were busy dressing up and keeping the crowds away from the monument. Much of the gate was surrounded by temporary green walls which kind of sucked; on the bright side, I now have pictures of India Gate with no people, which isn't something I thought I'd ever be able to take.

I always feel safer when the bomb disposal squad is present

A people-less India Gate

After a lengthy stop back at the salon, it was time for dinner. We decided to make our first return to one of our favorite restaurants from our 2004-2005 assignment, threesixty at the Oberoi. Not a bad little way to cap off a long day. Then on the drive home, we approached a large object in the road from behind.

Lindsay really wanted to stop, I was happy having seen it from the road. We passed it, and I made mention that she could probably could have gotten a ride. Immediately, she ordered Kailash to turn around. I put up a little bit of an argument (it had been a long day), but Kailash isn't stupid. He knows nearly as well as I do that a happy Lindsay (or a "happy ma'am," in his case) is an important aspect of life. Plus, no matter how long I live here and how many I see (and I really don't see that many), witnessing an elephant walking down the street in a city of fifteen million people is something of an event in my mind.

We stopped for pictures but an unsuspecting Lindsay had her glorious ride usurped as she posed for a snap. Still, not a bad way to end a day in Delhi.

Lindsay's loses her ride

The Other Side of Holi

Everyone that knows about Holi knows about the fun side of Holi; merrymakers throwing colored powder and water at one another. This is the Holi that Lindsay and I experienced in a tranquil, controlled environment at the resort we were staying between Jodhpur and Jaisalmer. It was our third Holi here in India, figured it might be our last one, and decided it was an experience not to be missed. Plus, how many times in life do you get to throw stuff at your wife with no real repercussions and have her do the same?

She looks a little too excited

Unfortunately, Holi has a slightly darker side. It turns children into monsters. Late Saturday afternoon as we walked through the fort and streets of Jaisalmer, we began to see more and more kids already stained with with the deep purple result of mixing the traditional colored powders with water. Kids were stained, goats were stained, even a dog was stained.

Stained dog, though I must admit, he didn't seem to mind

As the day got later, the kids seemed to get a little more aggressive and started to lose their inhibition about approaching or threatening innocent looking foreigners. It seemed like they were taking control of the city. It was all very Lord of the Flies. At one point, we saw them with a pick axe digging a hole in a city street from which to start a bonfire. I mean, at least they were thinking about safety, but I can't say I'd ever seen kids digging up a city street without supervision. Not that I had even seen it with supervision either.

Just another day at the office for the youth of Jaisalmer

On Holi morning, we had a 200 kilometer drive through the Thar Desert. The driver encouraged us to get a late start, but we had plans starting early afternoon for a jeep safari through the desert. Based on what we had heard about drinking and driving on the holiday, I couldn't see why we'd want to start any later than we had to. The villages we drove through were eerily quiet. Very few, if any, people were on the street. Shops were closed; there was no loitering. Empty. If you've been to India, this never happens.

About halfway through our journey we approached some kids forming a human blockade across the highway in an attempt to collect their self-imposed toll. The driver slowed, rolled down his window, and started yelling. When that didn't seem to work, he left the vehicle and basically chased the kids away. For kids, whom we decided to call bandits, that were tough enough to block a road, they certainly wussed out when faced with a little adversity.

Yes, both my Dad and I capured the human blockade on Flip video

Stained bandits

Celebration after a successful Rs. 10 heist

Shortly after the first blockade we hit a second where the little bandits had dragged brush across the road and then ran away. There seems to be a lot of running away involved in this business. Our fifth and final blockade was the most aggressive of the day. It was the only blockade where the bandits actually through color at the car while one brave soul stood squarely in front of the car. Not exactly the same type of stand made at Tiananmen Square but effective nonetheless. When throwing color didn't work, the bandits turned to stones. That was actually a little scary. Finally the brave little Tiananmen Square reenacter moved aside and we were allowed to pass. Quite a different way to celebrate a holiday. Annoying? Yes. Harmless? Seemingly.

What we experienced was harmless. What some truckers experienced was certainly not. Later that day as we crossed the highway on our jeep safari, we came across what I can only describe as the worst head on collision I've ever seen. Two trucks. Two fatalities. The cause? According to our driver, large rocks placed across the highway the night before as a blockade. The driver likely didn't see them until it was too late, swerved, and had the misfortune and mistiming of a truck coming from the other direction.

Tragic.

An All Import Expat Thanksgiving

As you might expect, Thanksgiving doesn't mean much around these parts. It comes and goes pretty much like any other day. On the bright side, working for an American company that supports American clients, it's still a holiday. In fact, I decided to do what I would have done if I was in the U.S. and took Friday off as well. Typically, with four consecutive days out of the office, we'd get the heck out of here and explore; however, with all of our recent travel, we decided to keep it low-key and just relax at home. You know, like a real Thanksgiving. Plus, there's always more than enough to keep us busy, the most important of which was an invitation to Thanksgiving dinner with some like-celebrating friends.

Even though I've only been back in India for a few short weeks since the extended homestay, there's something comforting about being around people that celebrate the same holidays on those holidays. With the exception of a couple of Canadians and a German (in the spirit of full disclosure, the Canadians moved here from Fargo, ND and the German is married to an American, so they basically count as Americans, whether they like it or not), it was a room full of those like-celebrating American citizens. While not the same as family, not a bad little proxy.

The food? Let's just say we just as easily could have been in Chicago as we were in a heavily gated and guarded enclave in India. The turkey? Butterball, moist, and delicious. The stuffing and potatoes? Just like Mom makes (almost, Mom). The pecan and pumpkin pies? Simply delightful. Something called a 'Magic Bar'? Probably about as close as I'm going to get to the taste of a Two Elk Bar without flying back and skiing Vail.

Everything, and I mean everything, tasted just like it would have in the States. The reason was simple. Every item had a story where it was specifically sought out as the real thing (like the turkey, which isn't exactly an indigenous bird around here), had an ingredient that had been lugged back in someone's suitcase (like the pecans in the pie), or had been carefully selected at the new import grocers, Modern Bazaar (like the Ocean Spray cranberry sauce).

I have a lot to be thankful for this year, more than I care to write about here. But suffice to say and without getting too sentimental, I'm thankful that Lindsay and I are having this experience. Like you'd expect, there are ups and there are downs. Luckily for us, the ups far outweigh the downs.

For one night though, I was thankful that the food tasted and smelled the way it "should". Today, it's back to expat India which, let's be honest, isn't a bad place to be.

Diwali, Festival of Fire Crackers

Landing back in India the night before Diwali, I was greeted at the apartment with a marigold decorated entryway, complements of our cook. Diwali, the Indian festival of lights, is a holiday, based on the magnitude, that I've described to others as "Indian Christmas"; however, after what I experienced Friday night, it felt a little more like the Fourth of July.

Knowing that it's an important holiday to Hindus, Sikhs, and Jains, we weren't sure what would be open during the day, expecting very little to be based on our experience with other holidays here. Surprisingly, markets and shops remain open until the late afternoon or early evening so Lindsay was able to take our visiting friend Sarah to two of her favorite haunts, Dilli Haat and Khan Market.

Lindsay had called places to see if they were open for dinner, and surprisingly, a couple said they were. Of course, all the places that she had called apparently misunderstood her question and ended up being closed when we tried to go. Since, as we kind of expected initially, the country had basically closed down (much like Christmas Day in the states), we headed back to the apartment where there a number of people lighting off fire crackers at the playground (no kids were on the playground). The fire cracker people had basically taken over the huge lawn and a number of wallflowers, us included, surrounded the perimeter. In addition to the lawn by the playground, there were a number of people doing the same thing on the soccer field, which is located a few dozen yards away.

It can't be confirmed or denied, but it's entirely possible there were some crackers fired in the general direction of the soccer field from the playground lawn and vice versa. No one intended harm; however, it was difficult to ascertain with the amount of carnage witnessed on those fields. We witnessed not fewer than six firecrackers hit the apartment buildings, including two or three that found their ways onto people's balconies before exploding. Thankfully, our apartment faces the other direction.

At least safety was somewhat of a concern

After a while the novelty wore off, at least for the visiting expats and we made our way back inside. That same novelty didn't wear off for a number of hours for the locals celebrating. As it was my first full day back in the country, my old enemy jet lag reared its ugly head. Waking up feeling fully rested at what I thought was 6:00am, the celebration was still going. I thought to myself, "Man, they're serious about these fire crackers." Somewhat confused, I checked my blackberry, learning the actual time was 1:30am. Maybe my body hadn't quite adjusted yet with my two hours of sleep but based on what I could hear from bed, Diwali was still going strong.

Cleaning up the playground the day after Diwali

Back on American Soil (Sort of)

While Lindsay is touring the Midwest this week, I did the next best thing; attend the American Community Support Association's (ACSA) fourth of July celebration on the grounds of the American embassy. As a patriotic American, I felt it my duty to attend. I went with Kristin, the other expat from work, but was unable to extend the offer to my German friend Ben. While he lives in Cincinnati and is married to an American (which was one of the conditions listed for attendance), she is currently in Germany ("foreigners" could only attend if with their American citizen direct family member). He wondered if his Ohio driver's license would work; I told him probably not.

Upon arrival at the gate, my first thought was, "you know, there's a bunch of people who are obviously Americans waiting outside a gate at the American embassy on the fourth of July, this has the unfortunate potential to show up on CNN as a 'breaking news' headline." We were obviously Americans as we were forming a proper line to wait for our passports to be checked. The women in front of me heard the comment, turned around and said, "yeeeeeah" while slowly nodding her head. Obviously, I was not alone in my thoughts.

Safely inside and past security checks that seemed slightly more serious than the half-ass metal detectors I walk through on a daily basis to go into malls, hotels, or the office, you could have just as easily been at any celebration back in the states. There was an inordinate number of people that made the decision to wear shorts, kids running around with reckless abandon, and any number of staple cookout items (yes, including actual burgers made of beef). They even had watermelon and pie eating contests. I abstained, though I'm pretty sure I could have gone for the double and won both.

There was a free raffle with three or four winners for round-trip tickets to the states on Continental, which seemed generous. You had to be present to win (a couple people were not so they kept drawing names). Lindsay called right before so I had stepped into the indoor section so that I could hear. I thought about calling her back afterward and telling her my name had been called but I wasn't "present" and that her call had cost us a free ticket. But that would be mean.

Shortly after the fireworks display, it started to sprinkle, which was actually a nice respite from the humidity. A few minutes later, the sprinkle turned into the torrential downpour more closely associated with the monsoon season. We made it inside before the worst hit, waited out until it let up a bit, and decided to call the driver for a pick-up before too many other people made the same decision.

All in all and even with the visit from the monsoon, it was about as American a fourth of July as one can expect when half way around the world.

If you're an American living in Delhi or the NCR, the ACSA is basically a social club for government employees but they also have membership types for non-government U.S. citizens.

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!

Chicago is Overrated Anyway

Around a week or two ago I learned of the potential for a week-long meeting that would have brought me home to Chicago for a completely unexpected trip. This morning I learned that that meeting was no longer taking place.

Even though I had no intention of returning to the U.S. until some point in October for a planned home leave trip, I was looking forward to an "extra" trip that would have enabled me to see family and friends and now find myself somewhat homesick for the first time. The stars seemed to be truly aligning; my little sister was going to be at home for the July 4th holiday weekend and a great friend that had moved from Chicago was actually going to be in town the weekend I would have arrived.

Unfortunately, I made the mistake of tricking my mind into thinking I was two weeks from returning to the states. The "new" reality is that I'm still four plus months from visiting home, which was always the plan. Regardless, I still feel like I've lost something even though it never technically existed.

On the bright side, things could be a lot worse. There are a lot of familiar people, both professionally and personally, that will be making appearances in the greater Delhi area over the next three months. Plus, this frees up a holiday weekend in India (we basically follow U.S. holidays in the office so the 4th of July is a holiday here as well) to travel. Lindsay will actually be back in the states for one of her best friend's (or maybe it's her best friend, I'm not sure and would hate to offend anyone) wedding over the holiday weekend (quick note, we do actually like one another, she just has considerably more vacation than I do this year) so I'll be traveling alone for the first time in some time.

Ideally, I'd like to keep it to four nights at most, don't feel the need to just "see" a city, don't mind exerting physical effort, do fairly well at elevation, and am open to leaving India. Any suggestions or ideas on places that fit this criteria? And yes, I realize that criteria don't get much more general. As long as it's a reasonable flight (and yes, "reasonable" has a flexible definition depending on how interesting the destination), I'm game.

NF7TRJDHYQPF

The Birthday (aka Goa, Part II)

While the trip to Goa was timed perfectly for a much needed break from Delhi, the primary purpose was to celebrate Lindsay’s birthday. It was also the first time we’ve done a resort-style vacation without a thing planned besides informally figuring that we’d need to find time to schedule a massage and a strategy to snag the preferred chairs at the pool. Upon arrival, we took a tour of the grounds and quickly made our way to the pool, which was a beautiful southwest facing infinity pool overlooking rice paddies (someone old us it was wheat, but I had never heard of a wheat paddy, but then again, it’s not exactly Kansas, so they very well  may have been wheat paddies) with palm trees blowing in the distance. You couldn’t actually see the Arabian Sea from the hotel, but you could just kind of tell there was a massive body of water lingering just beyond the last row of trees. We spent the afternoon alternating between swimming, reading, and cocktails. Yeah, that’s right, cocktails in the afternoon. Shocking.

Apologies for the length of the post, but I’ve tried to break it up in pieces.

Ranger, Leisure Concierge

While sipping cocktails by the pool, the leisure concierge, whom we had met at check-in, found us at the pool and brought his menu of offerings. His name was Ranger, and he claimed his parents named him after the Lone Ranger. While that was probably just a story to endear himself to unsuspecting tourists that could pronounce and remember the name, he seemed like a good enough and genuine dude. Among Ranger’s more interesting offerings was something called “beach bubbly” which amounted to sparkling wine sunset beach picnic and a combination outing to the local fish market to bargain for seafood and a lesson with Chef Linda as she prepared the food you had purchased. Thankfully (as you’ll learn later) we opted to skip the beach bubbly based on the menu but figured the fish market would be a good opportunity to feel like we did something “local” rather than only lounging by the pool for three days.

India’s Pike’s Place Market

 We awoke early on Lindsay’s actual birthday to venture to the fish market with a guide and driver. We were too early for the retail market so we headed to the open-air wholesale market, and we were glad we did. It was a market in its most basic form with dozens of impromptu stalls selling everything from snails to sharks to other various sized fish pulled from the Arabian Sea. It certainly wasn’t a place heavily visited by tourists as evidenced by the fact that we were able to walk around without the constant pull of hawkers and beggars; basically, we were left alone to explore. Lindsay placed herself in charge of bargaining for the night’s main course and relegated the the evening’s starter to your’s truly. As we approached the kingfish section, it was time to bargain. We really had no idea how much fish we needed, so a “medium-sized” kingfish seemed appropriate.

Lindsay quickly got herself into Indian market bargaining mode. The salesman’s first asking price was Rs. 1200 (I’m not going to convert everything into dollars here, but let’s just assume we’re using a $1.00 = Rs. 46 rate going forward which makes this a $26 fish). At least he recognized us as Americans. Lindsay’s initial bid? Rs. 350. The salesman quickly got crazy eyes and started yelling incoherently (“incoherently” is another way of saying it was a language I didn’t understand). Apparently, he was insulted. He grabbed the fish, took it to another stall that had a scale (in hindsight, it’s a little odd he didn’t have a scale), and weighed the fish; just over two kilos. He came back and basically said, 500 rupees per kilo so 1000 rupees. Lindsay pulled the “let’s start walking away” move. Having taken two steps toward his neighbor, we heard his price quickly begin to fall.  His newest offer was Rs. 500. Lindsay had the figure 450 in her head (not sure exactly why, maybe because it was close to $10?), made one last effort to try and get that price, and felt comfortable with Rs. 500. Upon walking away from the stall, the hotel guide who had been mysteriously silent through the entire process said, “You got a very good price on that fish; it would have cost at least Rs. 700 or 800 at the market in town.”

Since the tiger prawn selection was somewhat limited at the wholesale market, the fish market in town was our next stop. The Margao marketplace resembled some of the markets we’ve seen in Thailand; however, it was still early in the morning so the crowds had not yet arrived. The first stall we found had absolutely enormous prawns that were the size of a fist. The price for those was equally outrageous at Rs. 1100 per kilo. The shopkeeper was treating it as fixed price and wouldn’t budge .We walked away. We weren’t so fortunate this time as we allowed to keep walking. At the next stall, they didn’t have prawns nearly the size but the prices were much more reasonable. The second shopkeeper also seemed intent that it was going to be a fixed price affair; based on the commotion Lindsay caused when she stepped on a stray cat as I was trying to bargains, I decided that Rs. 225 for a half kilo of prawns (about 12 based on the size I had selected) was fair for my purposes and dinner had been purchased.

The marketplace also contained fresh fruit stands with the world’s smallest bananas (probably figuratively, not literally) and a butchers’ row with stalls dedicated to various meat types, including the first beef butcher I’ve seen (Goa has very much a Portuguese influence, and with that has many more Christians). After walking around for ten minutes or so, we figured we had had enough local flavor for one day and headed back. At 8:30am we were at the hotel.

Chef Linda

The rest of the day played out quite similarly to the day before; swimming, reading, and cocktails. We did, however, find the time to squeeze in an afternoon massage.  The second bookend on the fish market experience was to learn how to cook the local catch with Chef Linda at one of the hotel’s restaurants. While the lesson basically amounted to us watching her prepare the food, it was still a fun experience to get into the kitchen and see how it was done. If nothing else, it convinced me that buying and preparing fresh shrimp isn’t really as gross as I had always suspected (i.e., I won’t feel as tied down to the bags of frozen cooked shrimp in the grocery store at home).

The prawns were prepared with loads of butter, garlic, coriander, and chopped onion and were absolutely delightfully delicious. We selected two preparations for the kingfish; simple grilled  filets and chunked cubes in a red masala. Both preparations were great, though Lindsay was partial to the grilled filet and I the masala; if for no other reason that I could enjoy with some naan.

Lindsay’s birthday concluded with one last cocktail by the pool that was interrupted by Ranger, who had learned it was Lindsay’s birthday, and one of his leisure concierge lackeys that brought a birthday cake and serenaded her with a “Happy Birthday” song (Ranger also plays acoustic guitar, his talents are multi-faceted).

The Beach

The day after Lindsay’s birthday we had very little planned so decided it was time to experience the Goan beach which was supposed to be a ten or fifteen minute walk from the hotel. I think we may have missed a turn and the walk was a little longer; however, it gave us the opportunity to walk the main streets of Majorda, the nearest town. To be perfectly honest, the beach disappointed. As soon as our feet hit the sand, every shack’s front man approached us to either have a drink, rent a chair, get a beachside massage. If a front man wasn’t approaching us, a beggar was. In short, it felt like India. Not that that’s a bad thing; it just wasn’t the intent of the trip.

As sad as it is to say, the most entertaining part of the beach was getting photographed in the ocean (it’s my newest thing, kind of like (but nearly as entertaining as) getting a photograph at the entrance to a National Park). Honestly, the only reason that was even entertaining was that Lindsay had set down her flip-flops to take the picture and an unexpected large wave nearly washed them into the sea.

The most surprising thing about the beach was the way it catered to Russian tourists. Many of the signs labeling the beach shacks were written in Cyrillic script. Upon seeing the script, I started to feel like I was at some Black Sea resort. While I’m sure there are many nice resorts on the Black Sea, again, not the intent of the trip. Upon seeing one beach massage in action; which consisted of a topless Russian woman laying facedown, with her husband basking in the sun a few feet away, the male masseuse eagerly working out any knots, and some sort of masseuse’s assistant leering at the customer. Surprisingly, Lindsay wasn’t into this and decided it was time to head back to the hotel.

Holi

The downside to traveling on a holiday weekend is that you end up missing the ability to actually celebrate. Holi is India’s festival of colors and amounts to participants having colored water fights. It stains clothing, hair, you name it. One American colleague here on a short visit took part in the celebration and came to work on Tuesday with her blonde hair looking like a clown wig. When I saw her later in the week, nothing had changed.

On the ride to the airport in Goa, there were numerous revelers on mopeds that were absolutely covered in colors. We couldn’t get any pictures because our driver was driving a bit fast and erratically, which is to say he was driving very normal. My sister actually passed along a good slideshow (the pictures are well beyond anything I could have produced):

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/35662831/ns/news-picture_stories/displaymode/1247/?beginSlide=1

Needless to say, it’s something I’d like to experience next year. When we arrived at the gate in Delhi, the Kingfisher ground crew had obviously partaken as their hair and skin was stained underneath their clean work uniforms.

The trip and break from “India” while remaining in India was exactly what we needed. By the second day of the trip Lindsay mentioned that something like this might be necessary every eight to twelve weeks. While I’m not sure I need the tropics that frequently, we’re only three short weeks from our first “John” trip of this adventure; two weeks trekking in central Nepal to Annapurna base camp. Not much time to get into hiking shape.

Happy Civil Unrest (i.e., Valentine's) Day!

As hard is it might be to believe, what follows is an actual security alert email I received and not something copied from The Onion. I just wish they would have been more specific with which "multinational fast-food outlets" were more prone to protest; that is, is McDonald's considered a symbol of gross Western commercialism while KFC is just considered a symbol of simple Western commercialism? Regardless, it helps justify my refusal to celebrate Valentine's Day...

Worldcue^® Alert
Severity: Warning Alert
Security: Valentine's Day unrest possible in India through Feb. 14. Avoid protests; use caution at restaurants, gift shops and other commercial areas.
This alert affects India.
This alert began 10 Feb 2010 09:30 GMT and is scheduled to expire 14 Feb 2010 23:59 GMT.
Summary
Protests, vandalism, and other forms of unrest are possible across India through the Valentine's Day holiday Feb. 14. Right-wing Hindu groups strongly object to the observance of the unofficial holiday. Unrest is particularly likely in Bangalore, Mumbai, New Delhi and major cities in Madhya Pradesh, Maharashtra, Gujarat, Karanataka and Uttar Pradesh states.

Background & Analysis
Valentine's Day is very popular among many young Indians, but pro-Hindu groups such as the Sri Ram Sene (Lord Ram's Army), Shiv Sena, Hindu Jagran Manch, Bajrang Dal and the Vishwa Hindu Parishad (World Hindu Council - VHP) consider the holiday an affront to Indian culture and an example of gross Western commercialism. These groups regularly threaten to disrupt holiday events. The Sri Ram Sene has banned Valentine's Day celebrations in Karnataka, and its activists could prompt unrest in Bangalore, Mangalore and Mysore. Mumbai is a Shiv Sena stronghold where Valentine's Day unrest is an annual concern. Localized unrest is also typical in Delhi, where mobs have harassed Westerners at Connaught Place.

Protests are common, especially outside major government buildings, hotels, eateries (including multinational fast-food outlets) and shops selling Valentine's Day sundries. Demonstrations can turn violent - protesters have ransacked shops, burned greeting cards and posters and harassed and assaulted people celebrating the unofficial holiday. Confrontations with police could occur.

Advice
Despite increased police surveillance, security disturbances could occur at public parks, university campuses, movie theaters and commercial areas in major cities through Feb. 14. Avoid protests and limit exposure to gift shops whose proprietors typically ignore warnings to shut down. Right-wing Hindu organizations might also threaten to disrupt Valentine's Day celebrations at other venues, such as hotels and restaurants. Use caution in crowded commercial areas and avoid public displays of affection. Potential troublemakers are often easily identifiable; right-wing Hindu activists regularly wear saffron-colored clothing or carry orange flags.

"Happy Republic Day!"

Today is Republic Day –  India’s national holiday commemorating the date it declared itself a republic (creative name, huh?).  The highlight of the holiday is a large cultural/military parade each year in New Delhi that displays the power of the Indian armed forces while showcasing a float (or other equivalent parade entry) from each of the country’s 28 states or territories to promote the country’s considerable diversity.

When we were here five years ago, we attended the parade with two of our American co-workers that spoke Hindi  (even though English is the official language of the Indian government, the parade is broadcast in Hindi – let’s just assume they distance themselves from their colonial past on this day).  My favorite memory of the parade was their translation of the description of a missile in the lineup surrounded by marching soldiers (I’m paraphrasing here, cut me some slack, it was a long time ago…though I’d guarantee my friend Mohammed still remembers it verbatim), “With our newest weapon, there will be no invader left untouched and all of India’s enemies will wilt at our considerable might”…followed four minutes later by a float promoting tourism circled by traditional dancers from the state of Arunachal Pradesh.   You just don’t see that kind of variety in the Rose Parade.

Unfortunately, they seal the border between Haryana (the state where we live) and Delhi at 11:30pm the night before the holiday, so there was to be no parade this year for the Luth’s (it’s also the type of thing you’re happy to see once, much like any other parade).  How did we celebrate instead?  Working from the hotel!

This year’s highlight included Lindsay greeting members of the hotel staff with a hearty, “Happy Republic Day!” followed by them looking at her quizzically, smiling awkwardly, and responding, “Uh…yes…happy Republic Day, Ma’am.”

I witnessed this exchange no fewer than six times.  It became no less awkward (or funny) with any of those times.

In other Republic Day news, we learned this evening that our apartment lease has been finalized and that we will likely move on Saturday.  We had a walkthrough of the unit on Monday; not only was the property manager sporting a sweet Cincinnati Bengals sweatshirt, but the apartment looked really nice.   Both Lindsay and I were a little scared that we would walk in, find the place in shambles, and either spend hours fighting the landlord or hours cleaning; fortunately, the place looked move-in ready.

The true adventure begins this weekend.