May 15-16, 2016
Why is there a bucket in my shower?
My hotel bathroom looks exactly like a normal western bathroom. Except that there is a bucket and a pitcher in the shower. It’s very clean, but I have no idea what it’s for. Huh.
So, Google is a wonderful thing. It’s amazing what happens when you type in ‘Why is there a bucket in my shower in India?’ I now understand. The Crown Hotel is indeed luxurious when you consider that there is both a western style shower and toilet in the room. Now it makes sense when the bellhop proudly showed me the bathroom. I’d been a little quizzical at that.
I’d heard about squat toilets, and now I know about bucket showers. It’s one more thing that makes me realize how incredible we have it in North America. We have no lack of water. In fact, we don’t even think about it. Clean water is always there. And as such, we waste a lot of it.
Running water is a right to us, not a luxury. Yet, all over the world, water is precious, and clean water is a rarity. And I’d been thinking that the hotel could use a coat of paint, and some fixing of some water damage in the bathroom. But it is indeed luxurious – hot and cold running water, a true shower and toilet, and bottled water to drink. These are true luxurious that I am slowly beginning to understand. It is all a matter of perspective.
I’m also now beginning to understand why Delhi airport has won so many awards. It’s a western airport – complete with western plumbing. It allows for many people in and out easily, permitting for the ‘cross-pollination’ of one culture for another. The ability to easily travel, and for not only the very rich.
I am once again counting my blessings, seeing many more things as blessings than as just pieces of daily life – running water, clean water, and an abundance of water, running over.
Oh, and on a completely different note, the bird sounds are amazing, and so very different!
Thoughts on India – Order coming out of Chaos
Monday, May 16, 2016 – PM
Well, Monday is done. Mostly. I’m settling down to work a few more hours before dinner begins at 8pm. Definitely European dinner hours here.
I’m beginning to get a sense of the country and the people. The staff at the Landesa office is wonderful. It was so nice to meet them in person and see where they work and talk about what they do. It was an intense work day, but hey, that’s why I’m here! The Landesa office building below.
Because of the heat, there are shades over all of the windows. About the only time I’ve seen the outside was in the car coming and going. And about that . . . a word on cars and roads . . .
I thought Parisian drivers were crazy! These people must have some kind of internal radar to keep them from hitting each other. Tuktuks, pedestrians, cows, bikes, scooters, motorcycles and cars all share the road. They drive on the left side, like the British. Lane markers are just suggestions at best. It’s hair-raising as a passenger. But everybody seems to know where they are going, and how best to get there, even if it means driving on the wrong side of the road to get there. And honking their horns. A lot.
There is starting to be some order to what I’m seeing. As I’ve mentioned, everything is behind gates and walls. But between the walls and the road is usually a section of about 10-20 feet of what can only be described as rubble. I thought it was construction, but actually, I think it’s just debris from previous construction. And sometimes there are trenches, holes, or piles of rock or brick, and shanty type dwellings. Mixed in with that are free standing stalls – selling just about anything you can think of. And in many of the buildings behind the (open) gates are more formal businesses. The more professional businesses, I guess you might say. The Landesa office is in one of these. Below is the street outside the office. The gate at the far left of the pictures is to a government run mango orchard.
Looking back at the office through the mango orchard gates.
During lunch one day, Paranati, one of my Landesa co-workers in country, took me across to the state run mango orchard across the street. It was a huge piece of land – right in the middle of a crowded city. Like everything else, it was walled. It was a lovely place, and seemed to go on forever. Their were several types of mango trees and a large set up for horticulture of several different types of plants. It was a large scale operation, right in the middle of town! It was really peaceful, and people were allowed to roam freely and enjoy the grounds. Below are a couple of pictures, with more at the end of this blog entry.
On my other trips, I’ve added a ‘thing’s I’ve learned’ list. Not sure I even know where to start on this one, with the exception of the fact that Blackouts happen, and nobody gets alarmed. Byn Wednsday I wasn’t even blinking. I’d just wait for the generator to kick in and go back to work.
Miscellaneous, useless facts
I stopped writing mid week, because, frankly, I didn’t have time! As I’ve stated, this was a work trip, and I would work all day at the office, then Skype with Barb, who was also in India, but in another timezone, then Skype with the Seattle Office who was exactly 12 hours difference. So I was up late, and then up early. So now, as I’m getting ready to finally put these blogs up on WordPress (in 2023), I’m writing down other pieces of the trip.
I was in India in May. The monsoon season was just beginning, and there were some times of torrential rains, and other times it was sunny. And by Wednesday, I was used to the blackouts. I just kept making sure I’d back up my laptop regularly. The power would go out, we’d wait a bit, and if it didn’t come right back on, the generator would go on. Odd, the things you just get used to. When it was time to go home, I went quickly, and flew out of the city right in front of an incoming cyclone. We’d tracked it most of the day, and I just made it out!
We were also right next to a construction zone. It was noisy. And across the road was a huge state run mango orchard. More on that later.
I had a driver. Landesa always had their people use a driver in-country. But in India, it was a sign of status. The driver would pick me up, and then be available to me all day. This kind of thing was very important in India. The country had such a history of colonization, that formality was a sign of status. So all the business correspondence was formal and flowery. There were lots of advertisements for products that lightened a dark skin.
The money is worth significantly less. A 500INR note was worth about $7USD at the time. When I arrived at my hotel, I did a mental calculation, and figured that was about right for a tip, so that’s what I gave the bellhop. What I didn’t realize was that was about a week’s wages. That man was my slave for a week and I couldn’t figure out why. When I walked out of the hotel, I had 4 people waiting on me. Loading my laptop, opening my car door, etc. For the first time, I understood what the really rich in the US must feel like. The Hollywood star exiting the hotel and being escorted to their limo. But this was just me! A solidly middle class accountant. But perceptions are different, and to the people in that city, I WAS the super rich. (The tip to the bellhop didn’t hurt!). But it really made me think about perceptions, and what we take for granted.
Driving out of the hotel grounds was an eye opener as well. As I’ve said, everything is walled and gated. I could see the walls behind the lush gardens, and the large gates. Often the walls had broken glass on top to keep people out. There were guards at the gates as well, who would open them when the cars came out. Just outside the gates was a day laborer market. The juxtaposition doesn’t need much comment. (The following pictures shows the wall separating the office and the construction site. You can see the glass on the top of the wall.)
India is a country of essentially two classes. Those who are wealthy and educated, and the very, very poor. The tension between the two is apparent, and even though the cast system has been outlawed, the effects are still apparent. This was clear in the airport. I’d gotten out in front of the cyclone, and was in Delhi. By now it was about midnight. I got my airport boarding pass, and headed for the line through passport control. I had a 4 hour window to get to my flight. It should have been more than enough to get into the International Departures area, go to the lounge, shop a little, and get to my flight. But the line into the International Departures was unbelievable slow. I was told that the Passport control personnel were going slow on purpose. It was a power play. And it was common. The staff for my Luftansa flight, and that of other airlines, were circulating in the lines, finding their passengers, checking to make sure that everything they had was in order. When questioned about the slow down, they said that anything that they might do or say would just cause the staff to go slower. I spent the time speaking with an Indian woman and her companions behind me. They were part of the new India – well educated and very westernized.
It took hours to get through that line, and when I reached them, the passport control staff were moving like molasses. When I was through the line, I was met by a Luftansa attendant, and escorted through the maze of shops and restaurants to the gate and the plane. I boarded immediately, and was seated 15 minutes before takeoff, and at that point the plane was only half full. The attendant hustled back to the line to assist other passengers. Everybody made the plane, but just barely.
It was quite an experience. Thanks heavens the flight to Frankfurt, then onto Vancouver BC were unremarkable. I was a difficult trip in a lot of ways, just because it was such a cultural shell shock for me. I’d worked for Landesa for some time, and had worked with and met many people from many cultures, but on US soil. To experience India was something unique for me, and eye opening. Travel is indeed mind broadening.
