New Delhi, Part 2

New Delhi, Part 2:


The next morning, excited children and cooking aunties woke up the Three Musketeers on the large, nearly king-sized bed in the *guest room*: Didi, Maxima, and I. Massiji made me a cup of tea, and kindly provided lots of tasty cake-rusk. This pampering put me in an excellent mood for a boisterous environment so early in the morning....after we got home so late.

The previous evening Vinay, Didi, Maxima, Maxima's TV anchor friend, Minku, and I did a little shopping near Connaught Place in New Delhi, then, round 9pm, set out to find a place to eat dinner and have a beer (or 5). Kidding (or 3).

The first place didn't serve alcohol. Neither did the second. It was 10 PM by this time, and I was starving. To prevent myself from making a very bad impression on Vinay's family by becoming grouchy due to hunger, I bought a Miranda (kinda like Squirt) at a soda stand. A few sips of Miranda gave me new life....so I shared some of my renewing calories with the rest of the group. I remember our friend Mike List talking about how Indians share drinks.....they just pour the drink in their mouth without touching the edge to their lips. That's what this group did. We were all hungry, and everyone, except me, was determined to find a place that met our needs. (Beer!) (Good food!) (Clean!)

The third place looked like a swanky place, and it did serve alcohol! In USA I would be put off by such a place because I'd consider it too expensive, but here, when approx 45 rupees = 1 dollar, and one of the cheaper activities one can do in India is eat out, I figured we were okay. I carried in my Miranda, and wondered if the staff would make a fuss. As were seated around a large, circular table, a server started giving me grief about the Miranda. At the same instant, Vinay saw a cockroach on the floor.

I said, " I think the cockroach on the floor is a bigger problem than my Miranda."

It didn't matter. Vinay was totally grossed out. We left. The next place we trudged to looked like a sophisticated lounge/sports bar. Comfy, yet sleek sofas, leather bar stools, dim lighting, big flat- screen TV's.....it definitely had a classy look, BUT....they didn't serve alcohol. We all laughed, and I got the impression that we were thinking, in our own way, " this is a typical frustration we would have here in India."

Maxima's friend pointed us in the direction of another restaurant. We walked past the well-lit portion of Connaught Place to a darker road. Most of the businesses were closed here. An awful stench of every kind of human and animal, probably dog, waste stung our noses. When exploring cities with Indians, every time we stumble upon a dirty, smelly area, the Indian typically makes a comment about how this is the genuine look and odor of India, as if cleanliness was imposed from the west, a threat to India's most definitive cultural characteristic.

This time was no different, "Ah, Jamie, here is real India," Minku said.

Realistically, the 'real India' comments are probably more of a way for Indians to ease their own awkwardness when they have inadvertently led me into me an area which reflects the harsher realities of a poor country.....well, that's too simple, really: I think India is a country with a gigantic gap between the wealthy and the poor, which equals, overall, a poor country.

After a few minutes of nervous walking, we found a lighted sign that said, "Bonsai." We went in, and found an outdoor restaurant on a floor of marble-white gravel. We were seated on a raised platform, which had a low table lined with spacious couches on 3 sides. The establishment attempted to make this area semi-private by stringing thick white rope vertically from the bottom to the top of a wooden frame above the couches. We stayed put, ordered beer, and when we ordered food, I, still very suspicious of New Delhi food, ordered noodles and fries. Everyone else ordered delicious looking fish dishes. When they arrived, I enviously watched the rest of the group enjoy their choices. I comforted myself with the memory of Vinay's Mom's cooking.

The rope was expensive. The bill for six people came to over $200 USD. We didn't even drink that much. Oh well! We finally got to eat, relax, and enjoy each others' company.

Today, I washed a bit of laundry and hung it outside on one of their lines. Then, I took Vasundhra, Minima's 3 year old daughter, to the flat complex's strip of a playground. Vinay accompanied us and he said he remembered playing in it when he was a kid! Wow! I pushed Vasundhra on the merry-go-round, caught her when she slid down the wide metal slide, and helped her pull herself higher on the jungle-gym (and helped her ease herself back). Amidst the activity during this sunny morning, Vinay and I chatted about our childhoods, and Vinay pointed out to large brown clump attached underneath the window of flat several floors up, and a few buildings away.

"That is a bee hive," Vinay said.

"Wow, what an example of man living with nature, instead of man being the master of nature," I said, eager to make connections to my readings in intercultural communications.

Vinay pointed to a few more hives on the same building. They were the size of a cluster of twenty coconuts. I wondered if the bees kept to themselves, or if they swarmed the windows and balconies of the tenants.

Vinay was called back by Didi, and I stayed with Vasundhra. She practiced her English, and I practiced my Hindi/Punjabi. She proved to be a quicker study than I, able to understand and use the English words I used after one explanation. However, the practice still had value for me, even if I didn't learn new words. An older boy of about seven showed up, and I helped them use the see-saw. I tried showing them how to bend the knees and spring back up so their end doesn't hit the ground. Both of them practiced the knee-moving part, but I never felt they were ready to deal with the weight transfer, so I see-sawed them, and they practiced, until my arms got tired. Then we were ready to leave, and we walked towards the simple entrance, two metal poles a few feet apart. Vasundhra stepped through the opening, then doubled back and walked back into the playground. I made a soft sound implying a question, and she smiled at me, with a twinkle in her eyes, as if saying, "The joke's on you, I was trying to surprise you." In the next second, she softened her look as if to say, "just kidding," and she walked out with me again in a very docile manner. I laughed at her display of sophisticated humor, and was surprised that it came from a three-year old!

Other interesting events of the day were:

Minku and I wanted lunch before we returned to Connaught Place for shopping. As we sat down, Minku said, "Jamie, I am going to eat with my hands, okay?"

I said, almost too jovially, "Of course, please do!" I felt embarrassed, even slightly ashamed, that Minku felt the need to prepare me to see a style of eating that was natural for him, whereas I would never think to tell Minku, if he were visiting us in USA, "Minku, I am going to eat with a fork and spoon, okay?" The shameful part was that he had intuited my probable response correctly. If he just dove right into his lunch, I would have been a little taken aback, though I would have tried to carefully hide it. So, I appreciated his announcement, though I shouldn't need to hear it.

Next: I bought a table-spread. I "thought" I brought the lady down to a decent price of 400 rupees for it ($9) and even went further and offered 400 rupees for 2 spreads. Later, as Sona, Vinay's 15 year old sister, confidently announced that those spreads were 150 rupees for one, 200 max, it dawned on me that I should have offered 400 for both, then walked away. (I got better at walking away later..) So, yes, I paid double the price an Indian woman would have paid for the decorative spread. Stickin it to the whitey!

We ate at a McDonalds nearby. I just had a mocha, but it tasted like the ones at home! This place sold fish sandwiches and paneer (cheese) and veg wraps, and french fries. I paid about 65 cents for the mocha.

Finally, the moment of true hilarity: our visit to Fab India, a new store with good, overpriced, cotton clothes. It was crowded with Indians and French foreigners. Didi found a few kurtis to try on, but the line to try on clothes was long, so we waited with her and chatted. A foreigner nearby wanted to try on the clothes, but did not want to wait in the line. So, she just took off her pants IN THE OPEN, revealing thong underwear, and tried on several garments. No staff stopped her. This would have attracted attention even in USA, but I was surprised that she would try this in India. I was giggling quite obviously at her audacity, but I also watched the reactions of Vinay and Minku, both Indian. They were shocked, mortified and embarrassed, and they ended up expressing it by laughing and giggling right along with me. Didi finally got into the dressing room, and after we critiqued her choices, we turned away, and next to us stood that girl, still obliviously trying on clothes. Our group of three erupted in belly-laughter. If she wanted to be so audacious, then we might as well enjoy ourselves. I preferred that than standing with Minku and Vinay in an embarrassed silence.

We went to the Delhi metro station to ride back to Rohini, in northeast Delhi. We had to go through a luggage check, and the fragile items I bought appeared to look like explosives to the police. They were wrapped in bubble wrapped and secured with masking tape. I had to unwrap the items, and go through the purse and pat-down search all over again. We waited on the platform with Minku, even though he was going home. We were all sad to part ways. However, Minku still left. At home, the friend would have just changed his or her plan and joined us. On the platform, clustered in groups, were policemen wearing beige uniforms, armed with machine guns. I told Vinay that seeing their weapons made me nervous. They also didn't seem to be watching the area. Instead, they chatted amongst themselves. I guess they planned to respond to a problem, not prevent a problem from occurring. Didi and Vinay didn't seem concerned. The ride was crowded, but smooth and air conditioned. Didi expressed relief that while the compartment was crowded, men were behaving appropriately and keeping their hands to themselves. She saw this as a sign that India was changing in a good way, and people were becoming more educated, and the relations between the sexes were perhaps a little more interactive, which, in turn, created less curiosity and less inclination towards inappropriate acts from the guys. I fully shared her reliefs, and ruefully remembered that the men on Bus 64 in Rome were slightly less proper and respectful than the men here. Here, men--and a few women-- only stared at me, the lone whitey on the subway.

I had a great time roaming Delhi with Vinay, Didi, and Minku. Thanks for the great memories!!