Taste of Delhi

Day two in Delhi concluded. I think I have had an overload of impressions but perhaps not as many as I would have had had I not spent 2.5 months in Nicaragua. The level of poverty is very similar. But I noticed one big difference. The flies. In Nicaragua, no matter where you find yourself (in a city or the most remote area), people will keep flies away from their food. They cover plates, utensils, bottle necks, and glasses with napkins. They wave flies away almost continuously when they sell fruit or cooked food on the street. (Funnily enough, they have invented a simple tool for this - a plastic bag tied to the end of a stick. Works very well.) Well, people here are not at all careful about the flies. They are everywhere in some areas and they land on everything. But anyhow. That as more of a tangential remark. Delhi is quite a hectic place. I have learned several things so far:

1. Big trumps small. That seems to be the primary (and only) rule of driving here. That and the horn-blowing (more below). With the craziness of motorcycles, rickshaws, cars, trucks, and buses (add to that pedestrians and bicycles in some areas) on the roads, I am surprised I haven't seen any accidents yet. Two lanes often are improvised into four or even five lanes of traffic. But somehow magically, everyone knows exactly what to do, where to go, and how to react when driving between a bus and a rickshaw with a car forcing its way before them. Guess the rule works.

2. One hand on the horn. All drivers (whether taxi, rickshaw, car, truck ,or bus) seem to have one hand constantly on the horn and blow it intermittently. Similarly to Nicaragua, it is used to signal to others that you are approaching or passing them or are thinking of passing them (and probably a multitude of other things). As soon as a traffic light changes to green, the first thing that happens is almost everyone blowing their horn. "Here I come," it seems to say. Horn blowing is so ubiquitous that buses and trucks sometimes have the following words written on the back "Horn please." Well, now that you politely asked, don't mind if I do use my horn. Which leads me to another thought.

3. Indians' funny signs. So far I have seen the following: "Speed thrills but kills", "Say no to plastic bags" (posted randomly on the side of the road under a street sign), "Safe operators are smooth operators" (I guess this refers to construction workers since it was posted near construction but I love the pop music reference) and my favorite so far by a landslide: "Ladies are requested to remain seated through the performance" (Guess where? On the inside of a toilet stall door. Yes, the performance :) )


4. The guilt trip. Another major part of being a foreigner in India. Taxi and rickshaw drivers will always try to extract more from you than is the usual fare. I am not trying to be mean or make a generalized statement. This has been my experience here thus far. Out of the 7-8 taxi and rickshaw rides taken so far, only one driver didn't try to up the fare. There are several ways drivers do this. 1) They hide the meter under a towel. You always have to check that it is turned on at the start of your ride. 2) Even if they show you it is working, sometimes it does not move - they have to start it, which they sometimes "conveniently" forget to do. 3) If there is no meter or it isn't working, they will quote you a higher fare than you know you are supposed to pay. One of my classmates got charged 600 rupees for a ride that should have cost 100 at most (she didn't know that at the time). 4) You agree on an amount but once you get to your destination, they suddently quote you a different amount. Once I argued and told the driver that we know the fare should be X amount, he replied by saying, "You not a good madam." Yes, the guilt trip. And then you feel like an *&$hole for denying them the $1. It is not that I really care about the $1 or $2 they are trying to overcharge me, but to me it is the principle of the matter that counts. I would gladly give them that extra money if they just treat me cordially and get me to my destination. But blatantly lying and then pulling the guilt trip card just won't work. I know they don't do it out of spite or any malicious intent, but still.

5. 'I don't know' does not exist in the Indian vocabulary. Similarly to Indians' inability to say "No" is their inability to own up to the fact that they don't know something. Very dangerous when you are a first-timer in Delhi and asking for directions. Last night, our taxi driver couldn't find our street address so he stopped to ask. Well, it was more complicated than that. He didn't speak very good English, so we first had to get him to understand the address we were telling him. Also tough to do, because he would nod (or more correctly, wobble his head in typical Indian fashion), although it turned out he did not understand us. That barrier overcome, he had to explain to the people we stopped the address (which he kept forgetting). We had several night guards point us in what seemed to be the right direction, but our driver was quite unsure and kept stopping every 20-30 meters to ask someone else. We were finally on the right street and asked one final time, when the guy we asked told us (very authoritatively) that such an address did not exist. "But we were there last night," we argued. It was futile. Finally we just continued driving down the street and I recognized a landmark. From there, it was easy. As our hosts told us when we finally made it back, "The more they don't know, the more detailed directions people will give you." :) Guess I will watch out for that next time.

And other than that, we finally managed to do a little bit of sightseeing in Delhi. That was an experience in and of itself as upon leaving the Red Fort we were joined by one man who steadfastly followed us around and kept pointing out landmarks. He did this so well that in the end he spontaneosly turned into our private tour guide. At first, we weren't sure it was a good idea, but in the end after maneuvering the crowded streets of the various bazaars close to the Red Fort, having him around turned into a blessing. He took us to the mosque and the Jain Temple; showed us Silver and Wedding Street (the latter an explosion of colors); popped us into several fabric stores (which may give him a commission, but at that point buying a pashmina, which I would have regardless, seemed like an insignificant price to pay even if that were the case); and had us back at the Red Fort for the Light & Sound Show two hours later. We tipped him and surprisingly he was not unhappy with the amount we gave him.
The trip home was yet another adventure as we braved a bicycle rickshaw ride to a taxi stand after the Light & Sound show, which seemed close to suicidal on the crazy roads. Also, as we got dropped off at the "taxi stand", we realized it was not a taxi stand at all but a parking lot. Our driver had yet again misunderstood us (although he had nodded so emphatically that he would take us to "taxi stand".) We sighed. That's just how things go here. It is never simple. Of course, you make your way to your destination eventually, but how eventually can vary widely. After confirming that indeed there was no taxi stand there, several guys came to our "rescue". "Yes, madam?", "What do you need, madam?" Even simply saying that we needed a taxi caused some confusion.
"Where is the nearest taxi stand?"
"You looking for taxi, madam?"
"Yes, we need a taxi."
"Where is your taxi, madam?"
"We don't have a taxi yet. We need one."
"You told taxi to wait here, madam?"
"No, we didn't come by taxi."
(Looks of confusion at which we try to explain.)
"We need taxi, now."
"Oh, you need now taxi? No taxi here, madam."
"Ok, where then?"
"Taxi at taxi stand, madam."
"Great, where is the taxi stand?" (which, if you were paying attention, was the question we started out with)
It is hard not to get exasperated sometimes. But then you remember that things don't always work the way you are used to in other countries, and why should they? You breathe deeply and move on. And, in the end, you get home.

Good Morning, Delhi!

So, I have officially landed in Asia for the first time. As our Australian ex-pat host put it, "At the deep end." I had heard much about what India would be like but decided to try to come as impressionless and expectationless as possible in order to formulate my own opinion and not merely mirror what others have told me. But let me start at the beginning. The flight from Newark.
For a 13-hour flight it was pretty painless. I was surprised. We had our own entertainment system, with over 300 movies (and additionally, TV programs and music) to choose from. The middle seat next to me was empty. The only "disturbances" so to speak, included my pillow mysteriously disappearing after I had made a trip to the bathroom. This was topped only by my snacks (handed to us in order to survive the hours between dinner and breakfast) disappearing during the last hours of the flight (probably also during a trip to the bathroom, but I didn't realize it until some time later). Perhaps it was the young guy on the other side of the aisle or some random passer-by... I will never know. Nevertheless, my "Indian" experience began the moment I boarded the plane. We were offered Indian food as one of the options. Older generation Indians mulled about in a confused fashion trying to decipher their boarding cards and find their seats. My classmate sat one seat away from a gentleman who seemingly polite (he kept apologizing for making her get out of her seat when he needed to use the bathroom), ended up trying to put his feet onto her lap after taking up all of the middle seat between them. (She glared him down into keeping his distance.) I decided there was no better time than this one to watch a Bollywood movie. I didn't really enjoy it much but at least I can say I have seen one.
Then we landed at Indira Gandhi International Airport in Delhi. I stepped out into the heat and made my way to immigration. The officer didn't ask me anything. I noticed that his nameplate was handwritten with bubble block letters that were filled in pen. It was hard for me take him seriously after noticing this fact. Passport stamped, I moved on.
Our professor was supposed to meet us but he was nowhere to be seen. Then one of my classmates had the smart idea to look at the signs people were holding. Sure enough, our names were on one of them. We stepped outside and made our way to the car. I didn't notice the smog or smell that I had been warned multiple times about. Perhaps, I will today. The scene on the road also did not match what I had been told. I had pictured a madhouse of cars, rickshaws, people, bicycles, and cows. All I saw was quite a bit of traffic and a crazy way of driving. Not to say that the above isn't still coming, but those were my first impressions. Apparently, Delhi is not as smog-filled as it used to be. Our host told us that many of the buses and taxis have switched to natural gas for fuel, which apparently has made a big difference.
I woke up at 4:20 am. Not surprising given the time difference. I dozed on and off till about 8 am. As I got up, an eager Indian housekeeper ordered me to come have breakfast, "Madam, come have your breakfast now." Although I'm sure she didn't mean it that way, it sure sounded like an order and something I should not disagree with. So, I obediently went to have breakfast. Which brings me to something else I had been warned about and experienced already. Indians' inability to say "No". Apparently, this is not because they are trying to be mean, confuse you, or rip you off. They are just trying to save face. It seems inappropriate for them to refuse you anything. So when asking for directions they will assure you you are on the right track although you are not. They will tell you, they have something in stock when they do not. And so forth.
There is plenty of room for misunderstandings. This morning as our host left, she told us she would tell her driver that we may need him to drive us to the World Bank office at some point. Five minutes after she left, the eager housekeeper came over to tell us that the driver is going to the World Bank, now. When my classmate explained that we wouldn't need to go until later, she stubbornly stood her ground, "But driver is leaving now." In the end, all my classmate could do was shrug her shoulders.
And thus begins our Indian adventure.

Bye Nicaragua, Hello India

Yes, I am back from Nicaragua. I apologize for not having written in the last couple of weeks but travel made that hard. There are just too many impressions to share and I won't do them full justice if I don't devote enough time to them. Unfortunately, time is currently an issue, since I leave for India (on a school-related trip) today. I feel like I still need time to mull over everything I saw and experienced in Nicaragua, but won't be able to properly before being whisked off to a new country and a new continent, where I am sure I will be overwhelmed by a whole new set of impressions. I am not complaining though. I am sure it will all make sense and come together one of these days. And when it does, I promise to capture the highlights in writing.

Stay tuned.

Mini-Nicaragua in a .... dance performance

I was super excited to find out that the one night I would be in Managua (Saturday), there was a performance of their Ballet Folklorico Nicaragüense at the National Theatre. I was also very pleasantly surprised to see that the theatre was packed, people wore formal clothing, and the seats were super comfortable with enough leg room (extremely important for me with my height and something I didn't expect given that I tower over almost everyone here, including men). The performance included approximately 20 different dance sequences from the different regions in Nicaragua, all in bright, colorful costumes. At the end of the performance I also thought how well it exemplified Nicaragua and Nica traits:

- Patriotism: We all had to stand up and listen to the national anthem before the performance began (this is probably also at least partially due to the fact that the Sandinistas are currently in power, and I couldn't help but think back to Communist times in Bulgaria). A number of songs and a poetry recital glorified Nicaragua, and everyone in the audience clapped and cheered.

- Religious Faith: A performance that exemplifies Nicaraguan culture would not be complete without some religious references. The last "number" in the sequence was in honor of the Virgin and included the lowering of her image onto the stage from above. People in the audience sang along.

- Having a good time: I guess this is part of any culture's folklore, but I was still very impressed with how full of life, color, and energy the dances were. And although I am sure many in the audience had seen these types of dances multiple times, they still "ooo-ed" and "aah-ed" each time the dancers appeared in new costumes. It made me realize how proud they are of their cultural heritage and how different that seems to be from the way a lot of Bulgarians feel about theirs.

The highlight for me was a dance in which the women swirled and glided across the stage with big flat weave baskets on their heads (without holding onto or supporting said baskets). I thought, "Surely, those aren't real. They are probably made to look like baskets but are somehow fastened to their heads so they don't fall off." Well, as if in answer to my skepticism, at the end of the dance they proceeded to take the baskets off their heads and hold them in such a way as to show us the inside. They were real.

Sun Protection

Nicas are very careful when it comes to protecting themselves from the sun. Most men wear baseball caps, women frequently carry sun umbrellas, and people try to stay out of the sun during the hottest midday hours. So, I guess given this meticulousness regarding sun protection, I shouldn't have been at all surprised when the driver of the mini-bus I was in on Saturday whipped out a sweater sleeve (yes, a stand-alone black sweater sleeve) and proceeded to put it over his left arm (the one that would be exposed to the sun through the window). But I was. And I couldn't suppress a smile.