Anand, my cook, does not speak much English. He’s learning a few words b/c of me but our conversations at night tend to be of a comical nature. We should have our own sitcom.
He sent me a text last week. It was in Hindi so I took one look at it and ignored it. The following day, he sent me another text. Thinking that I had missed something important, I took my phone to a work friend and said, “Can you translate this?”
She looked at it and said, “What is this?”
“It’s not in Hindi?” I asked. She shook her head. Thinking he had written to me in his native tongue I asked a few people if they recognized the language and could translate. Everyone I asked responded with: “I don’t know this language.”
The lack of knowledge on the langauge didn't seem weird to me as India has 22 major and upwards of 200 languages total. What struck me as strange was that Anand would write to me in a language that I could not have easily translated. It was clear I was missing something and I felt compelled to figure out the mystery of this text. I looked again at the message: Meem.tuomaro.es.kameeg.es.nokameg.peelis.meesis.
I started to speak it phonetically, and that’s when it hit me. If I spoke it like he spoke English, it became:
Meem.tuomaro.es.kameeg.es.nokameg.peelis.meesis.
Ma’am, tomorrow is coming is no coming please message. (should he come tomorrow?) I went back to his first text:
Meem.keefoor.sikroote.oofecs.TEUKUY.
Maam, key for security office. Thank you. (He left key for my apt. with office security).
There are a few ways to make me feel guilty and this one did it, tenfold. I added 'buying a Hindi dictionary' to my list of to do for the weekend.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Egg on your face
I had the good fortune of having my cousin fly from Chennai to Mumbai to visit me for a weekend. She is 20 years my senior and she and I have met several times over the course of my life since I was 13. Any knowledge I have about India and my family comes from her (no thanks to my father who remained mum on the subject until his death). This trend continued as we discussed cooking and our diets.
During the conversation I mentioned that I like to eat protein in the form of eggs. She shot me a look and said, “Aren’t you allergic to eggs?”
Now this of course made me stop in absolute surprise. For years I’ve been contemplating that I have in fact been allergic to eggs. I usually get a tummy ache when I eat them but when I’d mention it to a doctor or a friend I’d get brushed off with: “What? How can you be allergic to eggs?? And why would it make your stomach hurt?” So I’d attribute the feeling to poor cooking technique or some other weird thing going on with me at the time.
Feeling somewhat vindicated I said, “YES! Yes I am!!!”
To which she looked at me strangely and said, ‘So why are you eating them?” Properly admonished, I just shrugged.
She proceeded to tell me that as I get older I’ll get more allergies -- although now that I think back it might have been wise for me to ask her what food would have initiated such an effect (I still shudder at Hive Implosion ’09).
I went too early on Saturday and I still have no idea about the Huka Smoke shop.
During the conversation I mentioned that I like to eat protein in the form of eggs. She shot me a look and said, “Aren’t you allergic to eggs?”
Now this of course made me stop in absolute surprise. For years I’ve been contemplating that I have in fact been allergic to eggs. I usually get a tummy ache when I eat them but when I’d mention it to a doctor or a friend I’d get brushed off with: “What? How can you be allergic to eggs?? And why would it make your stomach hurt?” So I’d attribute the feeling to poor cooking technique or some other weird thing going on with me at the time.
Feeling somewhat vindicated I said, “YES! Yes I am!!!”
To which she looked at me strangely and said, ‘So why are you eating them?” Properly admonished, I just shrugged.
She proceeded to tell me that as I get older I’ll get more allergies -- although now that I think back it might have been wise for me to ask her what food would have initiated such an effect (I still shudder at Hive Implosion ’09).
I went too early on Saturday and I still have no idea about the Huka Smoke shop.
Friday, September 18, 2009
Exploring sedentary life
So this week I got stuck in a flash flood, made progress at work, got sick twice and recovered both times, got drunk twice(not at all related to being sick), and let my guard down with good rewards.
My 6th (!!) weekend is upon me and it’s the first time since I arrived that I have absolutely no plans unless I’m surprised by some random out of country person stopping by to visit me. I have a few things I plan to do, like make it down to MegaMall to check it out, locate a Henna place -- b/c I think that Henna is super cool -- and meander to a cool coffee shop I found and spy on the Huka Smoke shop next door to figure out what exactly is going on over there. The first time I wandered by and saw people smoking I did a double take but was unable to understand the full scenario occurring in front of my eyes. Since then I’ve decided to try to try to do some reconnaissance to get to the bottom of it.
I’ll let you know what I find out!
My 6th (!!) weekend is upon me and it’s the first time since I arrived that I have absolutely no plans unless I’m surprised by some random out of country person stopping by to visit me. I have a few things I plan to do, like make it down to MegaMall to check it out, locate a Henna place -- b/c I think that Henna is super cool -- and meander to a cool coffee shop I found and spy on the Huka Smoke shop next door to figure out what exactly is going on over there. The first time I wandered by and saw people smoking I did a double take but was unable to understand the full scenario occurring in front of my eyes. Since then I’ve decided to try to try to do some reconnaissance to get to the bottom of it.
I’ll let you know what I find out!
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Books
A lot of people ask what I do every night when I go home which I find a weird question. For some reason, since I’m an expat, my nightlife is of extreme interest to my co-workers. Since most of them have husbands and wives and kids they must perceive me to have significant opportunity to fill my evenings with exotic pastimes. I generally disappoint them with riveting tales of trying to watch hindi news to learn some of the language, wandering around the mall next door, or reading books on my kindle.
I guess if I was being 100% honest I would also add that I usually make it out to 1 or 2 bars a week, upscale lounges with tons of interesting people that I usually share a drink and conversation with and find out interesting facts about the world. For instance, did you know that Fiji went through a coup in 2000 and ousted its Indian prime minister? I learned this from my new Fiji friend who lives in Sydney, works mostly in Singapore, and is now in Mumbai for a few weeks. That kind of detail is hard to squeeze into the conversation though so I usually just say: ” I read books.”
I’ll be keeping a list of books I’ve read since I’ve been here because I want to. Subsquent books will probably get more attention but as this is my first post it will be a simple list. I HIGHLY encourage book recommendations so please leave your comments if you have any.
Valley of the Dolls (Jacqueline Susann): OK
Murder on the Orient Express (Agatha Christie): OK
The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (Steig Larrson): Great!
The Girl who Played with Fire (Steig Larrson): Good
Orcs (Stan Nicholls): Good
The Family (Jeff Sharlet): Good
A is for Alibi (Sue Grafton): Sucked
I guess if I was being 100% honest I would also add that I usually make it out to 1 or 2 bars a week, upscale lounges with tons of interesting people that I usually share a drink and conversation with and find out interesting facts about the world. For instance, did you know that Fiji went through a coup in 2000 and ousted its Indian prime minister? I learned this from my new Fiji friend who lives in Sydney, works mostly in Singapore, and is now in Mumbai for a few weeks. That kind of detail is hard to squeeze into the conversation though so I usually just say: ” I read books.”
I’ll be keeping a list of books I’ve read since I’ve been here because I want to. Subsquent books will probably get more attention but as this is my first post it will be a simple list. I HIGHLY encourage book recommendations so please leave your comments if you have any.
Valley of the Dolls (Jacqueline Susann): OK
Murder on the Orient Express (Agatha Christie): OK
The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (Steig Larrson): Great!
The Girl who Played with Fire (Steig Larrson): Good
Orcs (Stan Nicholls): Good
The Family (Jeff Sharlet): Good
A is for Alibi (Sue Grafton): Sucked
Monday, September 7, 2009
Indians say the darndest things
Here are some quotes I've collected over the past week alone. I am constantly amazed by how different our cultures are and nothing is as eye opening as daily conversation to make the case in point. Niceities such as political correctness and conciousness of generalizations are not even considered. People are matter of fact and I'd go so far as to say insensitive -- not only the speaker but the receiver. Or perhaps a better way of putting it is that america and parts of the west are so hyper sensitive that the truth isn't even truth anymore. I think that we could learn a little from India and they could learn a little from us. And I think both would be better for it.
Without further delay, here are my favs:
“So you don’t have a lot of vegetarians in America do you?”
“Eh, we have some. And vegans.”
“What’s a vegan, they don’t eat fish?”
“Or cheese.”
“Why the hell would someone do that?”
“Northern Kerala is different than the south. In the south people are short, dark-skinned and ugly.”
“You’ll learn about the different parts of India as you go along. For instance no one in Bengal does anything, they just talk.”
“Everyone? Not one person does a thing?”
“That’s correct.”
“She’s such a cool girl -- so sweet. Not pretty, but nice.”
“Indian men are such gentlemen. Then they get married and go crazy.”
I try not to eat bread which is difficult in India. First it’s SO GOOD. Second, bread is a staple here and not eating it does not seem to be an option. The following two things happened to me in the past 2 days:
@ restaurant: Said, “No Chapati!” so they took it away. 1 minute later a basket of Roti was brought to the table. I said “no” but they said, “No chapati…Roti!” Gave up and stuffed myself.
@ home: In an effort to stop being fed plates of carbs I told Anand “bread makes me fat.” And he replied with, "go to gym” and dumped chapatis on my plate.
Without further delay, here are my favs:
“So you don’t have a lot of vegetarians in America do you?”
“Eh, we have some. And vegans.”
“What’s a vegan, they don’t eat fish?”
“Or cheese.”
“Why the hell would someone do that?”
“Northern Kerala is different than the south. In the south people are short, dark-skinned and ugly.”
“You’ll learn about the different parts of India as you go along. For instance no one in Bengal does anything, they just talk.”
“Everyone? Not one person does a thing?”
“That’s correct.”
“She’s such a cool girl -- so sweet. Not pretty, but nice.”
“Indian men are such gentlemen. Then they get married and go crazy.”
I try not to eat bread which is difficult in India. First it’s SO GOOD. Second, bread is a staple here and not eating it does not seem to be an option. The following two things happened to me in the past 2 days:
@ restaurant: Said, “No Chapati!” so they took it away. 1 minute later a basket of Roti was brought to the table. I said “no” but they said, “No chapati…Roti!” Gave up and stuffed myself.
@ home: In an effort to stop being fed plates of carbs I told Anand “bread makes me fat.” And he replied with, "go to gym” and dumped chapatis on my plate.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Brighter
I've been getting a lot of comments that my last entry was depressing. You'd never know anyone even read this blog since I have no subscribers, but apparently that is not the case. So thank you to all of you who do check in and I do apologize if I brought you down. In order to show my sincerity, I will share with you the following ancedote (convo @ work):
“I’m freezing!”
“Are you really cold?”
“Yes!”
“We had the A/C up for you. Aren’t you from boston?”
Here is the street I cross every day to get to work. 8 lanes, fast traffic, and me - in heels. It's bound to come to an awful head one of these days.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
creature comforts
I’m sort of a creature of people. Even though I usually don’t think much of most people, I like to be around them. That’s why I live in a city. It gives me comfort to be near other human beings, to be part of a collectiveness, some small individual piece that’s part of a greater whole; a cog in the wheel if you will. I don’t know why this makes me feel better, it just does.
Mumbai, while filled with more people than have ever been in my near vicinity, has in its complete lack of similarity to anything I know, a stylized artistic tilt to it that is reminiscent of Charles Bukowski’s self inflicted isolation. I think of him as I sit at my small table in my small unadorned apartment watching the ceiling fans twirl above me. All I need is a bottle of scotch and a pack of smokes, preferably a half smoked stick sitting in an ashtray, its smoke curling in a cloudy romantic tendril around me.
Is this separation self-inflicted? I am indeed separated. Communication is somewhat difficult, not so much in conversation, but understanding what is truly an acceptable thing to ask according to custom/culture. You kind of just have to go for it, but it does nothing to help with the feeling that you are completely and totally alone. Doing the easiest thing can be quite complicated. Last week, someone had to help me dial our Delhi office. This morning the security guard waved me away from an ATM machine. I realized after about a minute of incredulity at not being allowed to use it that he was saying, “out of service.” Asking where to buy a beer or where you can find a mcdonalds is surprisingly difficult with people that are supposed to speak English.
As I write documentation of my time here it would be dishonest to not write about the less thrilling parts of my adventure, the parts where I’m annoyed and even disgusted with Mumbai: it’s unhygienic and uncouth ways. The culture mixes attitudes and lifestyles with behaviors completely startling and other behaviors completely commendable. But the bad things are there, and I notice them too.
Some days it’s all I notice. Other days I get indignant at criticisms of Mumbai and I come to her defense. And days like today, I just want to know where the fuck I can buy a pack of smokes.
Mumbai, while filled with more people than have ever been in my near vicinity, has in its complete lack of similarity to anything I know, a stylized artistic tilt to it that is reminiscent of Charles Bukowski’s self inflicted isolation. I think of him as I sit at my small table in my small unadorned apartment watching the ceiling fans twirl above me. All I need is a bottle of scotch and a pack of smokes, preferably a half smoked stick sitting in an ashtray, its smoke curling in a cloudy romantic tendril around me.
Is this separation self-inflicted? I am indeed separated. Communication is somewhat difficult, not so much in conversation, but understanding what is truly an acceptable thing to ask according to custom/culture. You kind of just have to go for it, but it does nothing to help with the feeling that you are completely and totally alone. Doing the easiest thing can be quite complicated. Last week, someone had to help me dial our Delhi office. This morning the security guard waved me away from an ATM machine. I realized after about a minute of incredulity at not being allowed to use it that he was saying, “out of service.” Asking where to buy a beer or where you can find a mcdonalds is surprisingly difficult with people that are supposed to speak English.
As I write documentation of my time here it would be dishonest to not write about the less thrilling parts of my adventure, the parts where I’m annoyed and even disgusted with Mumbai: it’s unhygienic and uncouth ways. The culture mixes attitudes and lifestyles with behaviors completely startling and other behaviors completely commendable. But the bad things are there, and I notice them too.
Some days it’s all I notice. Other days I get indignant at criticisms of Mumbai and I come to her defense. And days like today, I just want to know where the fuck I can buy a pack of smokes.
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