Long weekends

Monday was Independence Day in India and so a precious long weekend holiday. While the expectation is you are available to work from home even then, most Delhites use this opportunity to flee the city. We were no exception.

My recently acquired 'Outlook Guide to Weekend Breaks from Delhi' cites many hill stations, temple towns and general places of interest that are within reach of Delhi. Whether for a weekend, I am rather uncertain. 4.5 - 9 hours seems to be the travel time range they have applied. It raises questions as to what there actual is between Delhi and the 'nearest' places 4.5 hours away, but also underlines the sheer scale of the country.

We opted for Jaipur. Quoted as 4.5 hours away it actually took us 6. As for what was in between, after Gurgaon there wasn't much apart from a couple of small towns causing traffic congestion on the highway at intervals, and green open space with tall brick kiln chimneys. Perhaps a field trip option for sustainability professionals - the industry is one of the worst offenders for child labour, and in need of urgent addressing.

We were accompanied by a former German colleague from GIZ and together the three of were looking forward to exploring the 'pink city' as Jaipur is known. It was already early evening by the time we arrived (or 'reached'). After check in we went for dinner at a lonely planet recommended establishment at the Pearl Palace Hotel. It was a culture shock after being in an Indian environment for so long to be thrown into the travellers bubble. I felt a certain amount of discomfort and also was unimpressed by the inappropriateness of the clothing given the local norms....

We ate and sheltered until the monsoon rain had passed and then decided to catch a hindi flick at the cinema, an Indian experience Christoffer was yet to have. It was soon apparent that the local cinema was something of a tourist attraction in its own right.

Rajmandir is an impressive a single screen cinema building built in the 70's in art moderne design laced with green neon lights. We queued outside to buy tickets for Aarakshan, the latest high profile and controversial bollywood release focusing on the caste reservation policy in the education system. Being a women sometimes has its advantages and the ladies ticket queue was half the size of the men's. A grand entrance hall with a sweeping staircase and chandeliers greeted us when we entered.

While knowing hindi helps in watching a hindi film, the over dramatised nature means you can pretty much get a sense of what's going on. We enjoyed the audience interaction - the gasps and the cheers when the baddies and goodies faced off. The affectionate sighs when heart throb the gorgeous Saif Ali Khan is trying to woe his girl.

Then we felt a funny furry thing brush past out feet....and our interest in the film waned. Our suspicions were confirmed when during the interval Tristram saw a rat scurry through a hole in the wall behind where we were sitting. urghhh. At this point we called it a day.

As we left we got chatting to a young man, perhaps only 18, about his coloured threads adorning his wrist. Saturday was a religious holiday Raksha Bandhan or Rakhi, which a colleague described as 'brothers day'. It celebrates the relationship between brothers and sisters and as wikipedia explains 'involves the tying of a rakhi (sacred thread) by a sister on her brother's wrist. This symbolizes the sister's love and prayers for her brother's well-being, and the brother's lifelong vow to protect her.' It's not just immediate brothers or sisters but also extends to cousins and in some exceptions very close male-female friends. The man had 9 threads. 3 real sisters and the rest cousins. "It's expensive. I had to buy them lots of presents - new clothes. I spent 1000 rupees which is 20% of my salary!" I'll have to tell my brother that in exchange for the thread I have waiting for him in Delhi, I'll be waiting for some expensive gifts in return.

Our Sunday was spent exploring the cities main sights. By far the most impressive was the Amer Fort on the outskirts of the Jaipur. It's apparently a blend of Hindu and Mughal Styles and was built by Raja Man Singh 1 in 1592. The best was saved for last though and on Monday we enjoyed fine views of the cities of Amer and Jaipur, as well as the surrounding countryside from Jaigargh Fort. We were also entertained by the monkeys playing on the ramparts before the long ride back to Delhi and the prospect of another long weekend next week.

My anthropology degree is supposed to qualify me in at least recognising the species but alas that was far too long ago. Given there are 260 different species of monkey I think I can be forgiven. On revising my primateology I think what we saw were probably gray langurs (right) and also a rhesus macque (left). Both of which looked far healthier than the cheeky monkeys in Jangpura.

The Horrors of House Hunting

House hunting is never fun. Tales of being gazumped, cheated and generally mistreated by unscrupulous estate agents are told by even those friends who have taken the plunge and bought their own property (an experience that should be the most rewarding transaction emotionally if not financially of ones life). After the criminal landlord extorted money from us in Holland, we thought that we'd had our fair share of horrors on the house front. Perhaps the subsequent luxurious flat through the housing corporation back in Amsterdam means that we're once again due some drama.

Let's rewind one week to our initial explorations of the Gurgaon property market. On our first day in the city that's still being built, we popped into Mr Goel's Estate Agency to see what he had on his books. We were ushered into the empty room with exception to a bespectacled elderly man seated behind a table with the classifieds section of the paper open in front of him. We explained our requirements (two bedroomed, maximum 30,000 INR per month) and were met with a pregnant pause before the agent, without responding or even looking at us, made a call on his phone. A stream of hindi flowed and he engaged in a lengthy discussion with the recipient. On hanging up he then gave us a fleeting glance and said:

''There's nothing".

"In the whole of Gurgaon?" we questioned.

Ok, so were foreigners and expect to be fleeced at every opportunity but this seemed like a tall story.

"There may be one" he conceded unconvincingly. "Have you conveyance?"

"err...conveyance? Transport? A car, is that what you mean?...I'm afraid not. Can we walk?".

He indicated 'wait' with a nod of the head and twist of the wrist. Shortly after, a younger agent appeared clutching a motorbike helmet.

"Come' he ordered.

So we followed them outside to the two motorbikes parked in front.We stared at them and each other nervously. Even on the flat smooth tarmac back home wouldn't we even go on the back of a motorbike, let alone without a helmet. A deep breath and we then clambered onto the back before a bumpy ride down the lanes parallel to MG road.

We were greeted by a white kurta pajama wearing man, perhaps pushing his 70's outside a standalone villa on a quiet street. He spoke in oxford style English with a classy Indian lilt and impeccable manners. He gave us a welcome that made up for the previous disinterest by the estate agent. We were shown into his spotless home and upstairs to the apartment above.

"I live on the ground floor with my wife and we have two flats to rent on the floors above. 'I built the place for my children, you know, but they prefer to stay elsewhere." He sighed. "India is changing, its not what it used to be."

We were shown what looked on first glances as a great property, including a shared basement space 'where you can rig up a net and play badminton'. I felt a little uncomfortable though when he showed us the open roof and indicated 'this is where your servant can put up'. It was only on a second look we realised the flaw in the design (and location). A light shaft had been built through the centre of the house, essentially meaning there was an inner balcony from each living room directly looking down into the other flats. We wouldn't just be renting a flat from him, we'd be actually living with him...

Politeness meant we had to feign continued interest as the prospective landlord proceeded to interview us in his ground floor residence. We were served cold water on a tray by his helper. A short aside - it seems in most homes you visit water is served to guests in this way.

"What do you do? How long have you been married? What do your parents do? Do you eat veg or are you non veg?". A flurry of questions ensued, more extensive than my recent job interview (although the parental occupation and marriage questions were also part of that too....)

He went on to emphasize the importance of maintaining his high standard of cleanliness if we were to live there and set out the other ground rules.

"We're strict Hindu's so no beef in this house and please no cooking fish either. I myself don't eat eggs but that's ok, you can."

Then he changed gear to the hard sell.

"I'm politically well connected, and called to the Bar in Delhi. I still work in the supreme court," he explained setting out his credentials.

This explained the large framed portrait of Indira Gandhi on the bookshelf.

At the end of the conversation, we eventually got to the price. It was hard to remain convincing knowing we were not intending to take the place. We stated our limited and he stated his price. Not surprisingly 5k above what we were suggesting. Conveniently he then 'took a call' mid negotiation from another party who he went on to explain were interested and on the verge of accepting the place. We left by saying we'd think about it and beat a hasty retreat.

What followed were numerous replays of the same, with varying characters of landlords. The journalist who said if we were to agree to live in his place he'd want to see the marriage certificate; the retired IIT physics professor who complained at length about his current tenant and gave us the spiel about how he paid his taxes but then asked us for a portion of the rent in black; and now to our actual landlord who locks the gate at 10.30pm every night who we have to call if we want to come back later and won't let us go away at weekends without informing him.

While there is more I could recount about out current abode (see picture - top floor) - prudence suggests it may be better to wait until we vacate. For the time being we 'stay' in Saket (near the PVR complex rather than by Select City Walk, the upmarket mall). There's a spare room and the visitors book is lying open awaiting your stay!

Goodbye Amsterdam, Hello Delhi!

Over a year on from when we started our 'journey' to India, we have finally arrived. Our guest house is situated in Gurgaon, near to my office and its view epitomizes the dichotomy of Indian society. The lane simply ends with a couple of makeshift tents in tarpaulin and opens up to a barren field. A tuft of shiny new skyscrapers break the horizon. Construction workers clutching yellow hardhats and women with firewood balanced on their heads emerge from the field. They cross paths with my colleagues suited in crisp ironed short-sleeved shirts and chinos, with their blackberry in one hand and laptop in the other, who get into their chauffeured vehicle for the short journey to the office. These multiple realities will be a common theme I expect we will be digesting over the coming months.

Read more about Gurgaon in an excellent article in the New York Times by Jim Yardley one of my favourite correspondents:

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/06/09/world/asia/09gurgaon.html?pagewanted=1&_r=2&seid=auto&smid=tw-nytimes

In case you are interested, the Genpact Office that is described in the article is less than 1km down the same road as my new workplace.

How to....drink from a bottle of water

On my initial trip to Delhi I didn't expect to have to re-educate myself how to drink a bottle of water. The local technique (kindly demonstrated by a former colleague in the video) illustrates how the continuous stream of water arches neatly into the drinker's mouth and gulped down in one ongoing motion. This canny way of consuming H2O prevents the spreading of germs between the rim of the bottle. It also promotes social behaviour. Until I came to India I had never seen strangers on a train or metro, ask another if they could share some water from their bottle. It brought a smile to my face.

As for my technique, I managed to almost choke in the process and ended up with a soaking wet T.Shirt. A bit like hopping onto a moving bicycle in Holland. If you've not grown up on it, you're never going to master it.

*please note if you want to try this at home stand up straight and not on your back (as the video wrongly suggests due to my poor camera work and editing) otherwise you will definitely choke.

A change of plan but not (entirely) location

Technically speaking this blog should be renamed as my new job starting on 1st August will be in Gurgaon, a satellite city on the outskirts of Delhi. I'll be working on Climate Change and Sustainability issues for an international consultancy. In the meantime, for a brief interlude I am back in Europe to collect my husband and pack away our flat before moving back and continuing the Indian adventure mid July. In the interim, I'll keep posting about musings I wanted to share earlier on in the year but didn't find the time to share.

Breaking the silence

Miles away in Delhi, after months of silence I am sure you were wondering what’s Katherine up to? Has Delhi belly got the better of her?; Has she decided to take ditch it all in and try her luck as a Bollywood backing dancer?; Or has she checked in to an ashram, swapped her city clothes for a tie dye number, grown dreads and is now spending her days sitting under a tree meditating?

Well, I hate to disappoint.

These days Delhi Belly is solved by prescription drugs available over the counter. Without a prescription. Now while I am a Bollywood convert, rhythm and coordination are required for even the most basic ‘bhangra’ moves. I have never and will never unfortunately possess either. As for ditching the job and heading to McCleod Ganj and Rishikesh (where the Beatles found themselves). There is an element of truth in that. But 10 days of vipassana meditation in an ashram, with no talking was just not within the realm of possibility given my heritage (the inability to both sit still and silent). And I have already tried tie dye clothing and African braids in my hair neither of which suited me much.

So what have I been doing? Good question. Actually, probably much the same as you. Commuting to work, sitting long hours behind a desk and computer, eating and sleeping. Nevertheless, for all you armchair anthropologists out there I thought it would be nice to give you a glimpse of elements of my routine over the last couple of months, as what may be a standard day back 'home' is infinitely more interesting somewhere 'faraway'.

These days I no longer wake up to the call to prayer. Instead I respond to the call of the blackberry as its alarm stirs me at 7am. South Indian 'Devans' coffee http://www.devans.in/ and fresh fruit with 'Mother Dairy' Dahi for breakfast. The fruit is bought from one of the men who pound the neighbourhood with their cart piled with neat rows of seasonal stock. They carefully weigh the produce with scales and weights, before quoting the price and putting me to shame by the their mental arithmetic abilities.

As I leave the house for work, I walk past the drivers washing their owners’ cars on a daily basis, teenage boys walking their master’s dogs, and retirees in their turbans/salwar kameez and trainers power walking around the neighbourhood park.

My commute has depending on where I am working. When I have been at the GIZ office I have gone by autorik. Commuting by auto rik has meant I've got to know the local 'gang' of drivers so well I no longer even have to speak to for them to take me to work for the 70 rupees metered price. The only thing is on automatic pilot they have also tried to take me there at weekends too....

When I have been at SIDBI's office I’ve taken the metro. The metro is a fairly new addition to Delhi's infrastructure landscape. In the building of it they 'forgot' to include a footbridge or underpass to the Jangpura metro stop which is the other side of a 6 lane road from the colony where everyone actually lives.

Numerous travel writers say that India needs more than a lifetime to discover. There is some truth in this as after four months I am still trying to figure out how to quite literally cross the road.

Despite this minor glich, I have found the Delhi metro is a great way of getting around. It's efficient, cheap and clean. Best of all, it is probably one of the most 'gender sensitive' metros worldwide. Every train has a women's only section of the platform and a dedicated 'women's only' carriage. It does speak volumes about gender relations though in a country where female infanticide is a persistent problem, and where women's representation in the formal workforce is low. As I commute to work in the sole women's carriage, the remaining 9 'mixed' carriages are essentially men only.

'Morning Ma’am' and tea laced with mountains of sugar (and three extra sugar cubes tucked on the side of the saucer) greet me on arrival at work. I am inclined to think that dentistry is a profitable business in India from all the evidence I've seen to date.

Welcome to my blog!

To those of you contenplating relocation to India, my first piece of advice is train for a marathon. You need good stamina for what lies ahead. Luckily I did just that. Running the Mumbai marathon in 30 degree heat is perhaps an unusal method of sightseeing but it was unforgettable. Cheers of "Go Aunty" from the crowd made me realise I clearly wasn't looking my best after 40 odd kilometers but the energizing beats of Bollywood classics kept me going as did the mysterious pace maker whose name I will never know. Mumbai Meri Jan. Of course it didn't irk me at all when I was later asked by a well meaning colleague about which marathon I did, the 6k or the 21k? To which I murmured, err...the whole one and they fell off their seat.

Some of you may wonder what I am actually doing here. Officially I am seconded onto the “Micro, Small and Medium Enterprises (MSME) Financing and Development Project” It's a project between the German, British, Japanese and Indian governments along with the World Bank, working with the Small Industries Bank of India (SIDBI) to "strengthen the growth and competitiveness of MSMEs in India and boost their export potential". It's basically a project to help people like autorik wallahs (the person who drives a tuk tuk) reduce their GHG emissions and have access to micro credit to reduce their vulnerability to poverty so they can feed and clothe their families. And what you may ask have I got to do with all of that? Well I am supposed to be contributing 'expertise on sustainability reporting and stakeholder engagement'...

Onto my second piece of advice for those you relocating to India. Do your due diligence properly when choosing somewhere to live. Check if the leafy neighbourhood where you're living has reputation as having 'dog problem'. Yes, it seems Jangpura does, and so at night I endure the chorus of stray dogs arguing with the monkeys, who on an aside have been causing havoc with my landlords flower pots and satellite dish. Also, if you're not a Muslim (or even if you are) and you don't want to roll out of bed straight into morning prayers, don't live next door to a Mosque. A month since I arrived and I am still not used to being woken by the call to prayer over the loudspeaker every morning at around 5 am.

My third piece of advice: Pack some jumpers, if you're intending to stay a winter here. The best part of January was pretty chilly and the fact the houses are meant to keep the heat out not in, doesn't help with temperatures around freezing. I am assured that the winters are a welcome change from the searing summer heat and humidity of the monsoon. For me though it has meant having a little portable heater in my room which I have been switching on first thing in the morning and last thing at night, and wrapping myself up tightly in my wollen embroided shawl (de rigueur in Delhi at this time of year) on the bumpy autorik ride to the office. The seasons in Delhi change in a blink and summer has suddenly arrived. It was pleasurable jogging in Lodi Gardens and taking in the moghul architecture at the weekend in the sunshine.

Another piece of advice is to learn the words in Hindi for 'by (from) the meter' 'meter se' so the auto rik drivers don't rip you off. This sentence in itself is a introduction to the intricacies of Hindi grammar and the 'post position' (yes really, the opposite of a preposition!). I have been using my free time to attempt as yet unsuccessfully to learn the Hindi script. I may be more successful over the long term at Hinglish, of which I have already developed some affection. "I have reached..." is the equivalent of "I have arrived" and before I "take your leave", I'd like to impart one final piece of advice for a beginner...

Prepare to refer to someone as Sir or Maam a lot if they are old school and your senior. Hierarchy is important here and in the professional environment you have to show respect and the fact you know who is boss. Also don't be surprised if the boss has a door bell which he presses to summons the chai wallah for some tea...