The trivial fault lines in western culture

Most of the time when anything characteristically or culturally Indian happens, my French friend and I collectively refer to 'our culture' as the antithesis of such an event. Take for instance what we have come to affectionately refer to as the 'Indian line.' Instead of waiting single file for anything, a line will, once reaching the first ten people, dissolve into a crowd of pushing and maneuvering and chaos. We come together, us westerners, in bewilderment, as our learned regulation and mutual respect for one's place in line is thrown strait out the window.

This distinction is drawn as we make exclamations about Indian time, or blatant cheating in class. We generally lump together French and American culture to feel some source of common identity, which for the most part, under most conditions, is basically true.

However there are some, if incredibly trivial, cultural differences. Such as doggie bags. My friend and I were recently out to dinner, and I was only going to eat about half of my pizza, and so I was going to asked to get it wrapped up to go. She would as well, though this idea was, while a perfectly logical one, also something new for her. Apparently, in France, you don't get food wrapped up to go. If you do, you will either be seen as a poor person or else a miser. Its snobby, she explained, but people don't do it although it makes perfect sense. As we were leaving, we laughed as she felt awkward and shy holding her little box, a situation of which I thought nothing.

Ah, the trivial fault lines between the French and Americans.

Diwali!

Today is Diwali, festival of lights! (we get the day off of school, hooray!)

Yes that is all I'm going to say for now. 

Autos

I basically get everywhere I want to go in a bicycle or auto rickshaw. There is really nowhere worth going in walking distance of the college, so I basically take one for some reason or another every day. When I first got here, that was probably the most intimidating part about doing anything in India: going out into the world, waving down an auto or rickshaw, attempting to convey to them where you are trying to go, not speaking hindi, the driver not speaking english, negotiating a price, and then hoping he takes you to that place you're trying to go that you haven't been to before somewhere in New Delhi. The barriers of communication and the basic fact that I really don't know where I'm going has lead to some instances of getting rather lost and confused, and being saved with the help of the advice of the people by the side of the road or my friends who I could call and have them speak to the driver. In these cases, I generally end up paying more that originally agreed upon, for the time and trouble, and frustration. When the difference is fifty cents or so, I can get over it tolerably well.

Most of my ten hindi words/expressions have to do with autos and rickshaws. Not only do I get a better price speaking hindi (They're supposed to use the meter but they don't, and when I don't know where I'm going they can take you around and around), but the drivers seem to understand where I want to go with more certainty. I have yet to be able to give real directions other than pointing left, right, strait, and asking for a u-turn, but for now it works.

I have my preferred auto drivers. Not people, but this is a case in which I do tend to judge people on how they present themselves. I seem to have the best luck with elderly clean shaven types, well, most clean shaven types in general. There are auto drivers who speak a bit of english and are keen to practice it. Those who smile nicely are generally helpful. There are of course the drivers that are rather unkept, and chew something that they spit out red and thats kind of gross. If all else fails, I just go with the auto that seems to understand where I am trying to go and who gives me something around the regular price for it.

Everyone has crazy auto stories. My best is a crazy bicycle rickshaw driver story.

I was going from a nearby market back to college, a route that takes about five minutes via bicycle. When I got in, he was eating a carrot. After proving to be the slowest bicyclist in Delhi (the trip probably took ten minutes from M block to LSR for those of you who know the area), he proceeded to stop at the bus station about thirty yards from the college gate. I told him to keep going, to take me to the college, but indicated that I wait a minute. I was rather confused, but he got off and went to pee in the drain next to the bus station for what seemed like a very long time. I could have gotten out and walked the rest of the way to LSR, which seemed then and now like a good idea, and I would have done so, but I hadn't paid the guy, no matter how bad of a rickshaw driver he was, and the fifteen rupees was much better off in his pocket than mine. It was a very odd experience.

white water rafting

A few pictures from rafting on the ganges...

Diwali Mela

I have internet again! Hooray!

Yesterday, the college hosted its own little Diwali Mela. Diwali is next week, and seems to be the Hindu equivalent of Christmas, from what I have been told. Its also known as the festival of lights, where candles are lit up in windows all over the place, typically in traditional earthen sort of candle holders, diyas if I remember the name correctly. The Diwali Mela was basically a shopping event, with lots of different stalls, ngos, local boutiques, and lots of food. Including waffles with dark chocolate and gelato, but I won't get into that. Here are some pictures!

Beef

Again I have to apologize for irregular posting, the mystery of the vanishing internet has yet to be solved by Scooby Do, and may require calling in the big guns - getting another data card with a different company.

Last night, I got a message (via facebook on my phone because my sim card also stopped working on Tuesday) from my French friend: Can you take a night out? I'm having a crisis...I need beef.

And so, away we went to the Hard Rock Cafe, which is in one of the three huge malls that are all connected together in Saket, about ten to twenty minutes away depending on traffic. Even if it isn't a place I would normally hang out, a Hard Rock Cafe in a huge mall, exceptions must be made. Because there are burgers.

Big, juicy, beef burgers. It is possible to find beef in Delhi...I don't know how but you can...in some areas...it is illegal in some neighborhoods from what I understand for religious reasons. Needless to say I enjoyed my giant burger with provolone cheese, bacon, grilled granny smith apples, and lettuce and french fries with guacamole (I'm from California, what do you expect?)

It was kind of the best thing ever. 

Things you see

This evening my friend and I went to a restaurant called Big Chill, which is an italian joint complete with actual thin crust pizza, the best pasta around, and floor to ceiling decorated with old movie posters from Phantom of the Opera and Spiderman. Its one of those places that the percentage of ex pats is slightly higher. We had fresh baked pita bread with the most delicious hummus, followed by four cheese thin crust pizza with fresh pineapple and apple juice, and bravely set aside the full six pages of desserts.

And yet something still perturbed us. Sitting immediately behind me was one woman, sitting alone, eating no food. She was the maid of a family eating nearby, brought along to take care of the children in case they misbehaved. But she did not sit with the family, nor did they order her any of the delicious and relatively inexpensive food that they were enjoying. My friend was the first to notice it, my back being to them, and she had the uncomfortable experience of eating our meal while watching the poor woman sitting alone with nothing even to drink in this, well, blatantly western environment. The complete rudeness of it all, above more grand sociological ideologies or cultural practices, was most striking of anything.

As live in maids are still something that is near foreign to me, this whole scenario really kind of blows my mind. This is not by any means the norm, I don't think, or I'd like not to think. My friend explained that in her experience, maids are really a part of the family. If you go out to look at Christmas lights, they come along in the car with you. If you go out, and want to bring them alone, they sit at the same table, share conversation, eat with you, etc. You know, normal human manners and decency.

Seeing something like that is awkward and sad, and overwhelmingly confusing to my mind.