Sarah Writes a Letter to the FRO

Pretty much everyone who is not on a tourist visa has to register with the Foreigners Registration Office. Indian bureaucracy is simply astounding. And not in a good way. Registration requires several visits of multiple hours each and the provision of numerous copies of every legal document in your possession. Not to mention, you must write a letter to the FRO requesting that they perform the service you need. Melinda and I had registered previously, and then we had to extend our current visas. This is a whole other process involving roughly a month of waiting and trips to several establishments all over the city. After that, we journeyed back to the FRO so that they could stamp our registration papers and make our new visas officially official or whatever. Honestly, I'm not sure any of this matters because no one has ever checked to make sure I am registered. We do it just to be safe.

Anyway, the madam of FRO office stamped our papers (after only 1 hour!), and then informed us that responsibility for our address had been shifted to a different FRO location and we needed to go there and have that office and confirm that our registration had been transferred. *Sigh*.  Madam assured us that our information would be mailed to the new location that day or the next. So, a couple days later (today) we went to the new location and attempted to do as we had been told. The man there said, predictably in retrospect, that he had received none of our information and he would need copies of every legal document in our possession as well as two passport sized photos, and a letter of request stating that we would like a transfer of our registration to that office. We were super annoyed. It may not sound that bad in this blog, but trust me if you waste weeks of your life doing something pointless, and then face the possibility of having to do the whole thing again, you will be annoyed too. The part that really got me was the letter. I didn't really want to move to that office, I just wanted to be done with the FRO forever.. And why on earth should I have to request that you do your job?

In the end a wrote a polite informative letter. This is the one I wanted to write:

Dear Sir:
Since the government of your fine state is forcing me to transfer my registration to this most magnificent office, I, Sarah Beth Blake, passport number *********, visa number ********, a citizen of the United States of America, and resident at (this flat) at (this address), do most humbly request and desire THAT YOU DO YOUR FREAKING JOB and transfer my registration to this office.
                                         
                                                                                                      Yours ever so sincerely,
                                                                                                                   Sarah Beth Blake
                                                                                                                    16/09/2011

Only in my dreams... After going to back to our original FRO office and trying to figure out why they hadn't received our files, we discovered that all that was sent was a transfer request, but not the copies of documents. So, then we went back, gave the man what he wanted and he signed his name. However, we're not done yet. At some point, I stopped listening, because it was almost 3 and I hadn't eaten yet, but I gather we have to go back and complete the process after Durga Puja a giant holiday that's coming up in October. 
                                           

Melinda and Sarah's Tuesday Adventures

Here's a sample of the randomness of my life.

Late August:
One day, as Melinda and I were returning from a trip, we got into the car and had the following conversation with our friend.

Friend: There is just a small problem.
Us: What?
Friend: The brakes don't work.

Fortunately, what he meant was the brakes are starting to have problems. All we needed was some brake fluid.

Two weeks ago:
We discovered the Freshman aka "Freshers" social night. As Melinda and I were leaving our Bangla class one Tuesday night, we heard what sounded like an outdoor concert and decided to investigate. What we discovered confirms the validity of my personal philosophy that one should always, always, always, follow the music.  There was a small lot with a stage that had a huge banner which read FRESHERS. Several people (presumably the freshers) were standing around or attempting to score soccer goals. Representatives of each of the university's departments came and gave performances, usually accompanied by loud music and always with a fog machine. Some boys from the physical education department got up there in uncomfortably short shorts and did some impressive yoga and strength moves. One of them put his foot all the way behind his head. While it's true the performers were quite strong and flexible, I now have absolutely no desire to participate in any physical education program, so I'm not sure they achieved their goal... Another boy from a department which I can't recall got up and flung himself about the stage with great enthusiasm to very fast music and techno lights. The worm was involved, as it should have been. I believe Melinda has video clips of some of these performances which will be uploaded shortly, or not so shortly depending on the speed of my internet connection. Oh my goodness. People. ALWAYS. Follow. The Music.

Last Week:
Last Tuesday, we discovered the awesomeness of Mr. Kumar our Bangla teacher. It was Teacher's Day, so some of the Korean students collected money and bought gifts and food for a class party. (Side note: Koreans are possibly the sweetest people ever. I have yet to meet one I don't like.) We sang Happy Teacher's Day instead of Happy Birthday, took a class picture, and talked about what we liked best about our class. Then, as we were discussing Mr. Kumar's excellent art skills - he's always drawing pretty pictures on the chalk board - we discovered that he also studied under one of India's best pantomime artists. Obviously, a demonstration was necessary. He did walking, stairs, smoking, drinking tea, and an impersonation of a thief climbing a rope, among others. He actually is pretty good. 

Today:
I very nearly witnessed a death while in an auto on the way home. After class, I went to the mall to get some dinner, and then got in an auto. Normally, the 5 minute trip to my house is uneventful. Today, however, the driver was impatient and mad at the world. He zoomed off at the first opportunity only to be forced to slow down by the inevitable traffic jam. The auto was stuck behind a taxi that was trying to turn, so the driver laid on his horn and did his best to get around it. But, he misjudged the distance between his auto and the taxi, and hit it. Thankfully, we were going pretty slow. We got by and proceeded to barrel down the road. Until, we came around a curve and an old man appeared in front of us. We came within inches of hitting him at quite a high speed. I'm not convinced the man would have died, but it would have done some damage for sure. Then, the auto driver stopped so he could engage in a shouting match with the man he nearly ran over due to his reckless driving. It was really irritating. If you're not going to apologize, just shut up and keep going. I was greatly relieved when I finally made it home in one piece and without witnessing anything traumatic.

Apparently, Tuesday is the day for strange things to happen to us. Only the first incident occurred on a different day. 

Sarah Attends an American Town Hall Meeting

Melinda is out of town this week at meeting I have no part in. That means I have the whole house to myself! Woo! Anyway, that explains why Melinda's name does not appear in the title of this post.

Today, the US Consulate in Kolkata hosted a Town Hall meeting for American citizens. A friend of mine heard about it, and we were like hey a chance to meet more Americans and get free food. Let's do this thing. Four of us went. Basically what happens at these meetings is representatives from the consulate come tell you about the services they can provide and tips for staying safe in the city. It's fairly boring and mostly stuff you already know. But THEN, they open the floor for questions and that, my friends, makes the whole thing worth your time. The first attendee to ask a question began with this long winded speech about how there were elderly Americans who were home bound and had no internet she wanted to know what the consulate had offer them. It was kind of hard to follow her and ascertain what her point was exactly, but basically she wanted the consulate to establish a daycare center for the elderly. The speaker politely informed her that he neither the money nor the staff to provide such a service. Another man complained the education systems in India and America are quite different and wanted to know what the consulate could do to provide American schooling for his children. It seems to me this is something you should take into consideration before you move. But what do I know? I heard a lady sitting in front of me mutter, "Go back to America." under her breath. Again, the speaker politely recommended some homeschooling websites and schools run by NGOs the man could try. My personal favorite was the man who said he had two homes and was afraid of being robbed. He then asked if the consulate's security services could provide a guard for his personal residences. The security guy did an admirable job of laughing in attendee's face, though I think he really wanted to. His response: I am the department. So, I cannot personally come and patrol your house. My thoughts are, if you can afford two homes, one of which is in a very nice part of Kolkata, you can afford to hire a guard. A lady in the audience suggested that this man go and acquaint himself with the local police so that they would know him personally if he ever had a problem. Then, an Indian-American audience member made the comment that this plan probably wouldn't work as people don't normally do that and you can wait all day at the station before some will agree to meet you. (I happen to think this man is correct.) The woman apparently was seriously offended that anyone might contradict her. She proceeded to yell at the guy for thinking she was stupid, and then basically said that if he wouldn't condescend to visit the police station, maybe the police would not want to come to his house. So there. The man dealt with the situation quite well, and simply said that they would have to agree to disagree. (Wherever you are sir, I applaud you.) There were some more questions and a quiz about random American trivia. I now know that the Styx started out in Chicago, and Wyoming is the least populous state in America, with about 500,000 residents. I'm totally moving there when I get back. Afterwards, we had tea and refreshments. It was mostly Indian food, which I have to admit was slightly disappointing, but they did have rolls. I hadn't had rolls in almost a year, and I had forgotten how much I like them. We did meet other Americans and found out that an American Center exists where they occasionally have entertaining events. I liked it on facebook so it would keep me posted.

Melinda and Sarah Go Wading Through Villages

Last week, Melinda and I went visiting in villages. We went with a translator and two guides who know the area. It is currently rainy season and in the area we visited the rains have been quite heavy. To the right is a picture of one road we drove down on the way.  We were in a van that was really high off the ground and sometimes I wasn't sure we would make it. The next day, we had a little bit of engine trouble, and Melinda and I were thinking "Well, we sunk the van..." I feel like if I had been walking and stepped in pothole I might have gone completely underwater. But maybe that's an exaggeration. There were men fishing on the edges because their ponds had overflowed and since the road was slightly slanted one side had a current.  Fortunately, other roads were not that bad.
When we got to the villages, our guide said, "Now, this is going to be a little muddy is that ok?" Yeah. Sure, we can handle mud.  By the end of the day, we had mud absolutely everywhere. At one point we were wading through water and mud up to our knees and that was the "good road". The other roads don't bear thinking about...

Our guides were extremely concerned about us lest we should fall and world come crashing to an end. They were always asking if we were ok and one of the ladies was holding onto me at almost all times. At first, the lady would hold my arm right by the elbow, which is really awkward to begin with and as time passed, her grip would get tighter and tighter until it became painful. I was thinking, um... this is actually making it more difficult to stand up. Finally, I said "It would be better if you held my hand." Melinda has better balance and walks faster than I do, so a lot of the guides' concern was focused on me. There were many conversations, in Bangla, about my ability to walk, including the following:

A: Is Sarah doing ok?

B: Yes, she's doing much better now.

Sometimes, I was doing well and sometimes, I was decidedly not doing well. We had a lot of fun though. We plan to go out visiting again in future, but probably after the rainy season.

Melinda and Sarah Embrace the Rainy Season

Melinda and I have done a lot of traveling recently. On the first of this month we went to Bangalore, which I always try to spell Banglalore, but that is not correct. We spent 2 1/2 days with some friends of ours. They live just outside of the city in a typical American-style house located in a gated community. It was quiet, there were kids riding scooters down empty streets. It felt so much like the US it was weird. My favorite part of the house by far is that nearly every room had a bay window with curtains in front of it, that created perfect reading nooks. If I ever get my dream house it's going to include a giant Beauty and the Beast inspired library, reading nooks, and a couch swing. Yup. A couch, attached to the ceiling, that swings. (I'm pretty sure that's not technically a sentence, but I don't care.) Also, the temperature in Bangalore was about 75 degrees in the daytime. Melinda and I woke up shivering every morning. It was wonderful. Bangalore also has Taco Bell! It doesn't really taste like America, but after a year without it, Indian Taco Bell was great. I had a chicken quesadilla and a crunchy chicken taco. They don't serve beef.

We returned home late Friday night and then left Saturday to go work on a housing project we're helping with. The goal is to build sturdy houses for people who lost their homes in a hurricane a few years ago. On this trip we were surveying to see who needed help the most. That was an adventure. It's rainy season here, so the ground is just mud.  Melinda and I slipped, slid, and stumbled across paths and down mud coated stair steps consisting of single bricks, with the entire village following behind. Some of the homes we are going to rebuild (and relocate) are presently sitting in ponds. And many are made of bamboo poles and tarp. It definitely makes you rethink your definition of house. The houses we're providing are really just four brick walls, a window, a door, and a tin roof, situated on top of a 3 foot high concrete foundation. And the whole thing is 10 1/2 by 12 square feet. That may not seem like much, but it's a big step up from what the families have now. We may also add a small verandah but only if the budget allows it. The survey trip lasted 2 days. By some miracle, we managed not to fall on our faces and returned home Saturday night.

Before I left, my aunt gave me an India travel guide. The picture of my city was a of a rickshaw puller pulling his rickshaw down a road through water that reached his knees. Why that picture was used in a travel guide is still a mystery to me, but I have now witnessed it in real life. Sunday and Monday it rained all day and flooded some of the lowest parts of the city. For example, this road in front of our supervisor George's house.

We took a bus over there not suspecting anything as our part of town is fine, and then realized that we would have to cross two rivers to get to his apartment building. At first, we tried to roll up our pant legs and stay dry, but a then a car passed and created a wave, so our efforts were in vain. Fording the road was kinda fun though. Definitely a new experience. We were able to borrow dry clothes from George's roommate Antu so we didn't have spend our entire time there in soaked pants. George let us use his car and driver to get home. On the way, we passed some kids literally swimming in the road. Epic. Gross, because I don't even want to think about what was on that road. But Epic. 

Melinda, Sarah, and Their Friend Go On A Light Bulb Hunt

Yup, that's right. Sadly, as you get older you have to trade in Easter egg hunts for light bulb hunts. Unfortunately, I was never very good at finding things.

Tonight, our friend invited us to go to New Market, an endless maze of tiny shops where you can find almost anything you need for cheap prices, and enjoy the carnival-like atmosphere. If you go at night the disco lights are even more vivid. First, we went to some shoe shops so our friend could get a gift. I love shoes. And my feet are tiny which works out well since I finally live in a place where most of the women are my size. Who knew that would ever happen? Anyway, the point is I got some new shoes! Converse for $8. In this country, I wear a size 35. I'm not sure if that makes me feel better than wearing a size 3 in the States or not... After I bought shoes, we went on the quest for the light bulbs. All we had was the actual bulb we needed to replace. So our friend went around showing it to different light fixture sellers. And they kept pointing us to different places. Along the way, our friend bought us these awesome chicken and egg wraps. They make this flat bread and fry an egg on it, then they add chicken, onions, and an amazing spicy sauce. I think it's my favorite Indian food so far. We also found ice cream and a bouncy ball with a smiley face inside that flashes multi-colored lights when you bounce it. It's kind of embarrassing how excited I was about that thing. Oh, we did finally find the light bulbs, and then we went home. Hopefully, another Day of Fun is around the corner.

Sarah Goes Shoe Shopping... Sadly, Melinda Misses Out

You may recall that my shoes were stolen recently. Thus, I have been on a quest to find comfortable new ones. Indian women do not believe in comfortable shoes. The soles are thin, hard, and not made for people who have to walk in them. Finally, I found some shoes that a little padding, and I bought them. But, they turned out to be slightly too small, and gave me blisters. So, I took them back. I just wanted a bigger size, but the next size up was too big, so I asked if I could return them. The first guy didn't understand, so he got a younger guy to come help me. He said I couldn't return the shoes, but I could exchange them for any other pair. When I went to try the shoes on, he insisted upon helping me put them on my feet. Think Cinderella. I hate feet. I don't want anyone to have to mess with mine, so I tried to do it myself. He sad, and I quote, "Oh no madame, this is our job, and we LOVE do it." Ok then, I glad you do. It was pretty awkward. He even put back on the shoes I already owned. I don't think that's part of his job... I have a new pair of shoes, but I have no idea if they fit correctly. I'm still working up the courage to wear them for an extended time period. Oh life.

Melinda and Sarah Have 5th Graders For Neighbors

Some of the residents in our apartment complex are involved in a conflict with the President of the group that owns the property. A major part of the argument stems from the fact that lots of people want to build a shrine to Shiva in the courtyard, and a few people oppose the idea. Anyway, the President and a certain Mr. M have been circulating a series of angry letters to all the residents. Just to give you a little taste of what this is like, here is a brief summary of the latest letter from the President to Mr. M (and everyone else):

Mr M,

You are mentally sick. We all know that you do nothing good, and are only causing trouble because you are allergic to the success of the committee. The only reason I do not press charges on account of your libelous letter is because you are old, feeble, and helpless.

As for me, I pray that the Almighty will forgive you and watch over us.

Warmest greetings,

President --- 

Warmest greetings? Yeah right. And isn't it kind of juvenile to be sending letters back and forth to everyone? Yes, welcome to 5th grade South Asia style.

Melinda and Sarah Are About To Need A Transfusion

April 2, 2011

INDIA WON THE CRICKET WORLD CUP!!!! It was a very close game against Sri Lanka which India came from behind to win. Melinda and I were scrunched up in our chairs holding our breath, praying, and adhering to crazy superstitions we developed during the 8 hours the game lasted. (You might think I’m exaggerating the time thing but I’m really not.) For example, the first two times Melinda left her seat while India was batting, the Sri Lankans got wickets. (They got the batter out.) The third time she got up, a really good Sri Lankan bowler (pitcher) entered the game, and I seriously contemplated yelling for her to get back in her chair. After that she didn’t leave again. Then we decided that India did better when I wasn’t looking at the tv, so I read a book and watched the replays of all the good stuff that happened. I know it’s ridiculous but we couldn’t help ourselves.  After the game, our landlord’s daughter came over and leapt into Melinda’s arms. Our landlord’s wife gave us hugs and her daughter passed out chocolate, there was much jumping and yelling and general euphoria. Then we all rushed downstairs to see the celebration outside. As before there were parades, fireworks, random (small) explosions, and  a lot of people doing stupid stuff like standing on the seat of their friend’s motorcycle with their arms straight out to the side as they flew down the road. I really wanted to kick into mom-gear and grab that boy and say “Sit down! Sit up straight! And put your hands on the bike, you moron!”  

The last time India won the World Cup was in 1983. And this is the first time in history that 2 Asian teams have played in the final. I understand Australia has pretty much dominated the Cricket scene in the recent past, and I’m sure England has won the title as well. 

Tonight was really exciting and I’m so glad I got to experience it. Honestly though, I think the Indians were more excited about beating Pakistan last Wednesday.  As my landlord’s family put it, Pakistan is their “arch-enemy” and the Cricket game between them was “war”.  I wonder what the world would be like if all international conflicts could be resolved through sporting events….

Melinda and Sarah Bleed Blue

March 30, 2011

Note: The Indian Cricket team’s uniforms are blue. I have no idea why since there is almost no blue in the Indian flag, but who am I to question the wisdom of the ICC (International Cricket Something or other)? 

Ladies and Gentlemen, INDIA is going to the Cricket World Cup final! And they beat Pakistan to get there! Oh my goodness, who knew I would ever be so excited about Cricket? The entire country is now celebrating. There are fireworks and parades and lots of cheering people running down the street with flags and drums. Melinda and I watched the game, and then we were watching the celebration from my bedroom window. (Living on a major road, we get to experience the celebration in full.) So anyway, we were watching the fireworks and debating whether or not to go outside and get a better view, when Melinda says “That’s not a firework! That’s a bomb! Like a cherry bomb! That’s not safe at all…” Of course that settled it. We immediately proceeded outside. At first, we stood near some cops on their motorcycle. Then later, our landlord came down with his daughter, as well as our American friends who live in the same building. The atmosphere was exhilarating. People were dancing and yelling, and we were screaming “Go India!”, and taking hundreds of pictures. (Not me, Emily, but my friends) which I will get and post soon.  I saw all these people go by on motorcycles driving fast and not holding on to anything. One man took his took his hands off the wheel and leaned all the way the back so he was looking up at the sky. I wanted to alternate between yelling “YAY India!” and “Put your hands back on the wheel!!!” My friend actually got interviewed by a 24 hour Indian news service. The rest of us were in the background. The reporter asked where we were from, whether we actually understood Cricket, and what we thought about India beating Pakistan. (The rivalry can be just a tad intense.) Since we were being mobbed pretty much throughout the entire interview and could barely hear the questions, I’m sure we looked stunning and sounded incredibly intelligent. It’s now after midnight and I have so much energy it might as well be the middle of the afternoon. The final is on Saturday against Sri Lanka. God save us if we win.   

In other news, we toured a mosque last Thursday and my shoes got stolen. My Merrills got stolen which were my most comfortable and practical shoes. Our language coordinator wanted to take us on a cultural outing. So we went to Nakoda mosque, which is over 100 years old and very pretty. Before you enter, you have to take your shoes off, and generally someone guards them. After our tour, we returned to find that my shoes and our LCs shoes had been stolen. We asked the guards, who were in front of the shoe room if they knew what happened to them. Of course not. It’s their job to guard the mosque, not the shoes. Anyway, it turns out there’s a shoe store located in the back of the mosque. It seems a bit too convenient, I know, but I honestly don’t think they had anything to do with the theft. After some debate about whether or not it was ok for a woman to walk across the courtyard of their religious establishment, we set off. I guess our tour guide had already taken us to areas where women technically weren’t supposed to be, so what difference does the courtyard make? I’m sure you all have gathered by now that my luck in this country is not good. To get to the shoe store, we had to go through the men’s latrine. May I remind you, I HAD NO SHOES. My LC was able to use an extra pair but of course, they only had one pair of men’s shoes that were too big for me… The ground was covered in dirt and some of it was most definitely damp. I looked straight ahead and walked as quickly as possible. By the time we arrived at the store, I was determined to leave with shoes. Surprisingly, I actually found some cute ones that claim to be Pumas. My LC paid for them, but even then they only cost about $3. YAY!

Melinda and Sarah Are Not To Be Trusted

March 21

No one believes us. We say it is possible to get internet and they say no. We say it is possible to make a pizza that is half cheese half pepperoni and they tell us it is not possible. Apparently, what is not possible is thinking just a tiny bit outside of the box. Sigh.

We are slowly but surely making progress on getting an internet connection. As you know from the title of my last blog, Melinda and I are learning the “Indian system”. Therefore, we have brought candy or soda every time we’ve been to the BSNL office.  We’ve talked about our families, what we study, and where in India the employees have been on vacation. By our third trip, we realized we needed to bring every official document we possess plus at least 3 passport size photos. (If you’re ever planning to move overseas be sure to bring at least 5 bazillion passport photos. You will need several of them for everything you do.) We brought the original copy of our lease as proof of address, a letter from Jadavpur University stating that I am in fact a student there. (The internet subscription is in my name.) This letter eventually included my full name, (never leave out your middle name!) my passport number, and my visa number.  It was signed and stamped by the director of the Foreign Student Office and included a passport size photo which I pasted on and signed. I brought copies of my passport and visa as well as my actual passport and visa, two passport size photos, and finally, an application for a landline and a broadband connection.  The first problem we encountered was that I failed to tell the secretary to put my middle name in the letter from Jadavpur. There may just be a Sarah Blake and a Sarah Beth Blake wandering around who look identical and live at the same address. But I managed to convince one of the employees that we are in fact the same person.  The second problem was that we failed to include our address in the letter from Jadavpur.  Apparently, the official lease is not convincing proof of address. The ladies of Room 2, who had been helping us thus far, were ready to approve our application but their boss would not accept our letter without the address. We tried to talk some sense into him, but he’s retiring in 2 months and has no desire to do his job anymore.  So, we returned to the Foreign Student Office and asked them to retype the letter to include my middle name and our address. Finally, our application was approved and we were invited to tea in Room 2. As we were leaving BSNL we noticed a sign admonishing people to “Fight to eradicate corruption from our society”. Considering that BSNL has made it as difficult as possible to get internet, refused to do their jobs, and asked our friends for bribes, this sign’s presence in the office makes it the very definition of the word ironic. Incredibly, someone came out the next day with our phone and modem. Now, we are waiting to have our phone line and modem connected. Hopefully, this will be done by the end of the week. 

Today, I went to Vodaphone to put my minutes on my cell. There’s a kiosk where you enter your information and the amount of rupees you want to spend and then it charges your phone. I wanted to put 500 rupees ($11) on my cell. Halfway through the process a doorman comes over and asks what I want. (As a foreigner, I am incapable of doing anything by myself.) I told him. He asked how much I wanted to spend. I told him. He said, “Oh no madam, the machine does not support that.” Yes it does. “No it doesn’t.” I tried to insert my money in spite of him, but blocked the money slot, insisting it wouldn’t work. I said, “Every time I come here I spend the same amount and it always works.” He told me to wait 2 minutes and went to ask someone else if I was right. I was. Finally, I allowed to pay and I showed the doorman the text that proved my phone had been recharged. My goodness, sometimes I wish people had a little faith in me. On the bright side, after we get internet, our house will be completely set up. Yay! 

Also, I recently borrowed an exercise DVD from a friend. It is Jillian Michaels’ 30 Day Shred. I love it. There’s really no place to exercise here except the super expensive workout space in our apartment building and I was starting to feel like all I did was eat and sit. It feels so good to be active again! However, I am super out of shape and I have no hand weights, so instead I use jars of peanut butter. I have to convince myself not to get out a spoon when I’m done. So far, so good though. I am not convinced that Jillian Michaels is “in the same boat” that I am, or that she and her physically perfect friends are really “feeling it”.  Oh well.

Update!

I got my package yesterday! The postman actually delivered it to my flat! It was glorious. Thank you everyone for the cards, birthday gifts, pounds of chocolate and other things. You are amazing and I love you. The postman seems to be very nice. He brought the package once at 11 am, but Melinda and I were "out of station". Imagine, women who leave their home during the day! So, he left a message with the guard in the lobby. When Melinda got there he said, "You're package is coming at 3 p.m. Please, be at home!" At 3 pm, the postman came again. I wasn't there, but Melinda was. When she signed for the package he said, "Melinda Merriman... You are not Sarah Blake." Melinda explained that I live there too, and the postman was like, "Well, sign 'for Sarah Blake'". I don't know if this is normal or we just got lucky. Maybe the post office recognized the address or tracking number and remembered us... It may be that they were just tried of seeing our shining faces in their office or hearing our lovely voices on their phone every single day. In any case, I hope the guy comes again next time. Melinda is expecting a package for her birthday soon...

Melinda and Sarah Learn the "Indian System"

I suppose I should write you and give an update on my flat. I am happy to report that it is mostly repaired, with the exception of the water heater in my bathroom, which I probably won’t need in a few weeks anyway. The bugs have been exterminated, and we have a gas stove, microwave, and toaster oven to cook with. We also have cable television and recently I got curtains that actually fit my windows. As an added bonus, I now wake up to a golden glow created by the sun shining through the yellow fabric. The tv is really loud, even if you have it on volume 1, but that’s ok! The traffic noise in my bedroom blocks the sound from the tv! Our latest adventures have been trying to get internet and a package.

First the internet:

We are trying to get a connection through BSNL, because the server that was previously tried turned out to be horrible. So Melinda, our friend Kayla, and I journeyed down to the office armed with our passports, passport photos, and our lease as proof of address. We presented all our documents, said what we needed, and then a confused looking employee said: “Are you an Indian citizen? Where is your passport or ID?” Um…  I have an American passport? Despite some obvious indicators that we are not, in fact, citizens of India, we were asked repeatedly for Indian passports or ID cards and then they informed us that we cannot get internet unless we are Indian citizens. I know this is not true.  I can think of at least 4 Americans who have internet through BSNL, Kayla, who was present with us at the time, is one of them. Sadly, they could not be persuaded to help us. So, a day or two later, we returned with our Indian friend Antu. When we jokingly asked him how to become Indian citizens, his completely deadpan response was “You have to get married.” So, there you have it. I’m officially on the hunt for an Indian husband so I can get things accomplished in this country. Another Indian in line turned around and said, “You just pay off a local politician. You can get passports, driver’s licenses, IDs, anything.” Even the combined efforts of Antu speaking Bangla and Melinda and I passing out candy in the office could not get us internet. Soon, (hopefully) we will return again with letters from our university stating that we are in fact students there and a notarized copy of our lease. And so, the saga continues…  In the meantime, we did discover wireless in the mall. J

The Post Office:

My wonderful family and friends sent me a package on Valentine’s Day. It is now March 4, so it should be here I think. On March 1, Melinda and I walked to the post office nearest us. It is called Tollygunge HPO. At the time, I didn’t know if my family had a tracking number. So, it was kind of a long shot, but what the heck. Upon arrival, we started asking friendly looking employees for assistance, and of course they asked for a tracking number which I didn’t have and wasn’t sure existed. Eventually we were sent to the office of the post master himself, where we were informed that the post office has no way of knowing if there is a package there for me, and furthermore if they do know, it is not their responsibility to inform me that the package has arrived. Just what exactly the responsibilities of the post office are remains to be seen. I texted my mom and sister and got a tracking number. One of them got online and discovered the package is presently somewhere in India. So, after waiting a day to recover from my first traumatic experience with the post office, I went back and presented my tracking number. I was then told my package was at the Foreign Post Office.  I hailed a taxi and proceeded across town. Not many people know where the Foreign Post Office is because not many Indians have to go there. Thus, the taxi dropped me off at the General Post Office which is nearby. After wandering for a while, I found an entrance to the GPO, and got a lady to write down some directions, which summarized were: Strand Rd opposite New Secretariat Building. At that point I had only three questions: What road am I on? Where is Strand Rd? How far down it is the New Secretariat Building? But the lady didn’t or couldn’t answer these questions, so off I went.  I probably wandered around for about half an hour asking different people for directions, before I heard, in English, “I think she’s lost.” I turned, looked around, and thought, why yes, I am lost. Help. I finally got slightly better directions from a friendly man, which I followed until I randomly stumbled across the tiny, hole in the wall, Foreign Post Office. It pretty much looks like a disorganized stock room with a few computers. There were no signs telling me what to do, and no one offered me any assistance, except a super enthusiastic, toothless, old man who really wanted me to sign in, which I did. I went up the stairs to the first floor, where I saw several people seated at desks behind walls, which were clearly marked NO ADMITTANCE. I tried waiting for someone to help me, but no one did. I find the most effective way to get help here is to blithely stroll into restricted areas. And so I did. And then people rushed to my aid. I was sent to the 2^nd floor where I found much the same situation, and responded exactly as I had before. Finally, I got to office of customer service, a tiny, unmarked room on the 3^rd floor. The man told me my package was at the Tollygunge post office. After, explaining that I had already been there that morning, he called Tollygunge. I was told that the package was on its way but hadn’t arrived yet. I went home called Tollygunge HPO, and they said it was at RMS Kolkata, which as it turns out is Kolkata Railway Mailing System. I’m hoping that the package is on its way to me. As of this afternoon, it still has not left the railway station. At least if I never get it it’s not from lack of trying.

And finally, the quotes of the week:

“Yes, I am the first white-skinned, blond-haired, blue-eyed, American passport holding, Indian citizen EVER!” – Kayla

“You must speak Bangla loudly at home!” – Bangla teacher, Mr. Kumar.

Melinda and Sarah Attempt to Live in their New Flat

February 12, 2011

Day 3 of crazy apartment situation. Still no internet. Things have improved since we got here on Thursday. Friday morning we went to visit our landlords. I cannot remember their names, but they seem to be a very nice couple. We told them about all the problems and they immediately started making phone calls. Apparently the building has its own plumber and electrician with whom we are rapidly becoming best friends. The electrician has been here 3 times today and it’s not even noon yet.  We did get foam for our beds. The plugs all work now so far and so does my toilet. Melinda’s handle still shoots water everywhere, but (hopefully) the plumber is in the process of repairing it. The exterminator is coming in about 2 hours.

Last night, I discovered that my shower head shoots water way off to the left, the water actually comes out of the side of the shower head instead of going down. And the water heater (aka geezer) doesn’t work. The landlords are going to buy both of them. The laundry machine is here but not hooked up yet. It’s a really good thing I had some extra clothes in the suitcase I left here when I went to language school, because everything else is dirty. I think we’ll be doing laundry for days when the machine gets set up.  I did find a broom yesterday. I have never been so excited about sweeping in my whole life. Now my feet don’t turn black when I walk around the apartment. Just a shade of light brown. And we got the rest of our luggage and plug adapters so I have a phone now. Yay!

P.S. You all should know that while writing this blog ‘I Will Survive’ by CAKE randomly started playing on I-tunes. It knows things…