A letter to India

Dear India,

You're beautiful you know? Yes, you are. And this is a firang saying this. Someone, who's been trying to understand you for the past two months... but every time I feel like I've understood a concept... I just get to see it from a whole new perspective... And it just slips away... And I have to start all over again...

It would be easy to say that you are not meant to be understood. That India is a land of contradictions, that you're like a stubborn mule that wants and doesn't want to conform at the same time.

Its so hard to define you. Because even though you could call your 1 billion inhabitants 'Indians', I feel like I'm in a different world, with every different group of friends.

Its very easy to define India as being a country full of diversity... but I dare anyone to define that diversity in tangible terms....

And even though I am just scraping the surface... What I write in this blog is my attempt... Because I know many people are waiting for me back home to try explain how it feels like to live here... and I want to do you justice.

I want to say This Is India as I know it...

And yes, This is the India that I Love...

***

India,

you're allowed to be beautiful, it's nice to have so much diversity and, believe it or not, it's amazing to have all your different cultures.

please...

embrace them,

tell your people to stop trying to be the West.. because you're not... and it's a waste to not be You. It's a waste to not explore your full potential... I've seen a tiny bit of what you can do...

And I believe in you, India... I really do

Food!!!

I decided to change Bangalore's name.

To YUMMY.

When I was piling on weight during the stressful exam period, I kept reassuring myself that I would definitely lose it in India...

My lovely diet plan worked quite well for the first week I spent here... since I was living in my NGO, where healthy veg dishes and plain rice are served three times a day, everyday. But to my dismay, I found I loved the traditional dishes.... and together with all the rest, I'm enjoying butter naan and butter chicken masala and paneer this and butter that and lots and lots of naan everyday. Needless to say, I'm piling the pounds back on....

And I love it....

The food here is delicious. We're nowhere close to having tried everything, but we do try :) Food is one of my pleasures in life. For that, I give India 5 stars!!

YUMMY!!!!

Put that bloody meter on!!!!!

There are some mundane chores, which, no matter which corner of the world you’re in, always come back to haunt you... and if you try to run away, they’ll kick you in the ass.

Washing clothes in one such example. Here we have to wash everything by hand, though I don’t really mind, I find it therapeautical. The hardest part, however, is to forecast when it’s not going to rain, so we’ll actually be able to dry those clothes after we wash them. :)

Then there’s other chores. Such as duplicating keys.

In India the process is a bit messy... but only because I’m white.

I needed to duplicate six keys. So yesterday, after work, I told myself:

OK Vio. You are going to take responsibility and duplicate those keys!!!!

So I asked my colleagues where to go and they assured me it was a simple process. All I had to do was to go to KR Market and I would find the keycutters cutting keys in the street.

Sounded easy.

So I left, feeling happy I was taking responsibility and I was finally going to get the keys duplicated.

Off I went to KR Market. After a senseless, albeit common, argument with the rickshaw driver when he tried to overcharge me, I finally found KR Market.

Imagine. A Maltese market with a difference. A place where no white people ever set foot in, except for one crazy Maltese (click *hyperlink* here to know what MALTA means) who decided she wanted to get some keys done.

I believe in asking for directions. I now, however, firmly insist to such believers to convert to map-reading.

I asked some people where I could find a keycutter. After several stares and some complicated sign language (on their part and on mine respectively) I finally understood I had to go straight, find traffic lights, and then go left.

OK, let’s go.

There were no traffic lights.

So I found a young woman who forwarded my request to her elder brother, who then forwarded my request to a policeman.

Good, I thought. He should be reliable.

Right?

Wrong.

He told me to walk back and go right.

I will not burden you any longer with the details of the time I spent going around in circles.

Two morals in this story.

1. Indian bureaucracy is everywhere.

and

2. Never ask for directions in India.

Anyway.

I finally managed to strike gold in the form of a policeman who actually knew what I was saying... and led me to the right street... with three (!!!) keycutters.

I paused at the beginning of the street, took a deep breath, and took my first step.

The battle had begun.

Bring it on, I whispered.

I’m currently reading an amazing book called Eat, Pray, Love by Liz Gilbert. The author insists that each city has a word related to it. Rome is SEX. New York is SUCCESS. Naples is FOOD.

I decided Bangalore is BARGAINING.

Definitely bargaining.

So I approached the first keycutter. My colleagues assured me a duplicate key would set me back 15 Rupees.

I presented my opponent with the key.

How much? I demanded.

300 Rupees madam, good quality!!!

(mum, do not read this part please :) )

It’s funny how English does not have colourful swearwords like Maltese, so I decided to resort to my mothertongue to express my feelings.

(you can continue reading now :) )

I managed to bring the price down to 200 Rupees, wasn’t satisfied and moved on to the next two keycutters.

After endless and useless back-and-forth bargaining, I left with nothing. No one wanted to lower the price and I refuse to settle for a price which insults my intelligence. (I dare you to comment or cough now.)

Anyway. So I ran out of the market, chased by a woman who was screaming ‘WHO ARE YOU?’ at the top of her lungs and smiling at the same time (it is possible, apparently). I stopped to catch my breath when her voice sounded distant.

(When I looked back I saw three men restraining her.)

Phew

No keys

What a completely pointless waste of time.

I called out a rickshaw to go home. The driver overcharged me, but honestly, I did not have the motivation nor the energy to even complain.

I finally got home, and cursed my white skin for the first time in my life.

But as my landlord said after I told him what happened, at least you have more to write for the blog!!

Bangalore... The city of bargainers.

Put that bloody meter on!!!!!

Childrens Lovecastles Trust

some thoughts

Wherever you are in the world, no matter what different backgrounds people come from, there is one trait you will always find. There’s always that person that feels so cool, that people look up to and envy while deep inside that person struggles to always remain at the top, always wanting to be cooler. And then there are the ones which struggle to fit in, want to feel part of the cool gang.

I usually don’t like spending time with wannabes. I like real people. Real energy. Real passion. Real feelings. But then you realise that these people did not have the opportunity to grow, to experience the cool things at a younger age. For them being cool is sooo now. For us, it’s so 10 years ago…

It’s my third week in Bangalore. And this is just my 3^rd post in the blog. I wrote a lot in the beginning. But then every time I wanted to write, nothing came to mind… writer’s block? Not really. Thing is, once the shock was over, I felt like nothing else would shock me anymore to write. I feel as if I’m in a familiar place now. By European Standards, weird things happen here. 5 people get on two-wheelers, beggars without hands come and ask for money, parties end at 11:30 if you don’t know where to go, neighbours walk in and out of each others houses just giving each other small presents. LOTS of weird things happen here. But after the first week, I didn’t feel like I needed to write anymore. Because I adjusted. And it was only when 3 Maltese girls joined my NGO that I realized how I needed to open my eyes again.

They gasped and oohed at the crazy rickshaw driving. They loved the shopping and rock-bottom prices and shopped like true Maltese citizens. And they squealed in delight when they saw KFC. They ordered burgers… while surprisingly, I took two spicy chicken wings and two non spicy ones… and ate the non spicy ones just for the sake of it .. coz without spice, nothing tastes good anymore….

And yes, I gave in. I had to try eating with my right hand. It feels disgusting at first, but then you realise the rice tastes so much better when you mix it with your hand, cause it mixes better with the sauce. So there.

Not to worry. I have not changed much. I just confirmed my earlier thoughts. Some people are happy to live in our little Island and maybe visit developed countries where they can just squander their riches on material stuff. Others want to see the world. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying the first one is wrong and the last one is right, but just because you’re not interested in visiting the rest of the world, don’t look down on us because we look at the world like little kids, and are always curious to know more. Open you eyes, or live and let live…

I think that what India showed my most, is that all around the world, people always behave in the same ways. Some want to be superior to others. And others struggle to reach that level. A girl I met in a club came up to us, put this fake American accent and asked me ‘So girl tell me, what brings you to india?’ And I replied… ‘I’m working in an NGO..’ Pretty little bimbo seemingly aged five replies… ‘An NG-what?’

Grr Spoilt Rich Kids.

I have nothing against riches.

I love buying stuff myself

But when people decide money is enough instead of brains, then it drives me up the wall...

11.07.08

here its fashionable to be late. everyone is late to everywhere, except for prayer. everyone is so pious, and they accept each other for whichever religion you belong to, as long as you believe there is a god. They stare at atheists in awe.

life here is good. India is seemingly divided in two. The rich part, which has beautiful shopping malls, amazing gardens, great pubs and discos... Then there's the poor part. where the government doesnt give a shit about people coz tourists never get to know about these places coz they dont come here. You could easily spend 2 weeks in india and say 'what a beautiful place this is'. I used to live in the poor area for the first 5 days. it drove me insane. Nothing can surprise me anymore now, I've seen and lived the worst of the worst of india i think, well there might be worse but i dont know about it. People stare at you like an alien just coz you're white, some try to strike up conversation. Not because they're annoying per se, but because they're so not used to seeing foreigners. This part of the city is forgotten, they feel forgotten, and it shows.

It is so sad to think about what these people go through. A treat for them is the Mango milkshake which they can buy for 10 rupees (67rup make 1 euro) and its seriously the yummiest thing ive ever tasted. i take that and spicy pancakes everyday. At work they now call me Macarodosa, (the spicy pancakes) , because everyone knows i like them so much. But im so fed up of the spice that i just eat the pancakes without the spice hihih, but no one knows... I try to fake I'm becoming indian lol.

At work I wear Indian clothes. They're actually soooo comfortable, and i dont need to stay thinking about what to wear, its like a uniform, you just throw on a Salwar (a long long shirt) on a pair of jeans and flip flops and you're done. I'm now wearing running shoes though,
because at work mosquitoes are attracted to my feet even though i spray on the mosquito repellent.

The indians love the word 'nemusa'. they think its so cool and now tell me 'look! nemusa!' hehe
Malta has a very good name with the salesian brothers. The brothers are great. Sometimes the director just calls me in the evening to make sure i got home ok, they are very protective of us girls, and got seriously pissed off that time when the AIESECers sent me home alone.
They shouted at them on the phone and I was grateful coz I didnt like going alone either.

Its amazing what you can see here. I dont take too many pictures, especially when im alone, because i dont like attracting more attention to myself than I already do. People call me Madam and think Im so rich, which compared to them, even the poorest person at home is. This morning I saw a squirrel, and on my second day I saw a camel walking in the road. Goats and cows roam the streets, but the streets dont smell bad. i dont know how they do it but i didnt see any cowshit
on the streets.

I get most stares when I'm eating. indians have this technique, they mix their rice and spice with their right thumb and forefinger, and eat only with their hand. i refuse to do it, hehe, i might give in and try one day, coz the technique looks really cool, but thank god for my lovely forks in the kitchen... at least i know no one else is using them apart from me hihi.

i think the most amazing thing i saw here however, are the streetchildren.

When i go next to them they all run to me and try to speak to me in english.

They call me aunty and one particular 7 year old, who is sooo tiny, called Kotik, always runs up to me, hugs me, then makes his way up and makes me carry him. He is adorable.

They love it when I tickle them, and everytime I go next to them, they steal my phone without me realising. They are used to pickpocketing, but now they do it more to show off. Whenever they steal something they give it back, even if i dont realise they took it. They know I am there to help them and they wouldnt dare harm someone who helps them.

They have no one in the world apart from us.

Yesterday two twelve year old boys were crying. They ran away from home from Nepal to find work here. Everyone told them that bangalore looks like heaven, and you get paid a lot of money when you work.. then they got here with no money and found nothing.

Another boy was with his mother and younger sister on the train 3 years ago. he was 9 back then. He slept on the train, then woke up to find that his mother and sister had left, without him. he spent the past 3 years in our centres, desperately searching for them with our help, but his family are constantly on the move, always changing house, and as soon as he gets there, they would have just left.
It just makes you ask... why does a mother do that to her child? And how
would you feel to be him? constantly rejected.

And he is sooo intelligent and cute. he goes to his classes and he is well behaved and everything.

But anyway, I guess we're not all born under the same lucky star...

ANYWAY

yesterday i ate pizza. it was the first time i didnt eat rice. god i wasss sooooo happy hehe....im now living in the rich part (compared to where I was), and im really grateful now. if i neevr lived in the poor part for a while i wouldnt have seen this side of the story.... sometimes its better not
knowing though...

anyway enough for now!! happy reading, im back to work!!!

Vio xxxx

05.07.2008

It’s my first day.

This is so different to anything I’m used to. Usually, when countries promote tourism you’d think they’re exaggerating. Here it’s different. Here, what you see in pictures is what you get.

I had the craziest time today. On the plane I was thinking, what the fuck am I doing? I have the perfect summer ready at home, why should I spend two months here? Then I thought, well at least there will be the other Portuguese Interns, I will spend lots of time with them and so still feel European. But that wasn’t what I got. I’m not staying at the trainee house, because that is an hour and a half away from where I work.

I’m going to be living in my workplace. And that’s where I got the shock. Alone. With Catholic priests, and 14 year old screaming kids. And no internet or TV. And I can’t go out if I’m bored because I’m scared.

And it’s amazing.

Because I have never been running around on a new ambulance before just for fun, for a test drive as soon as it was bought. For them, it was like taking a new Ferrari on a test drive, the same excitement.

The food is spicy, but I love it. I’m getting used to the spice slowly slowly… and it seems as if I’m going to get fatter and not thinner.

Fr. Cyriac showed me around today. He showed me a super(small)market, an internet café and we also went for a mango milkshake which costs 10 rupees and tastes like heaven.

This morning went shopping with two girls; Tripa and Naomi… We bought some Indian clothes for me to wear everyday. They’re really comfortable.

I have to go. A woman which is temporarily sleeping in my room wants to talk. Lol

She’s staring at my computer….

Ok bye!

Viola