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.
Saturday, April 9, 2011
Thursday, April 7, 2011
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.
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.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
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!
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!
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
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.
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.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
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 2nd 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 3rd 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.
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