Things you kinda had to be there for: miscellaneous observations of every day life in Bangalore.

My coworker, John, never served in the military.  He spoke to me the other day and noted that every veteran he knows does not really talk about their military experience, except with other veterans.  He realized why.  There are some things in life that need to be experienced to believe.  Living in India is that kind of experience.  Nevertheless, I will do my best to shed a little light on what it is like to be here.

We saw it!  On Christmas Day 2011 Nancy, the kids and I saw the "fabled 5" people on a motorcycle.  We have heard rumors a the "mythical 6", but I have never seen photographic evidence.

One night my coworker and I were driving home late after a department get-together.  We were on a major road in Bangalore called Airport Road.  We passed a forklift driving full speed in the dark.  Where else would you see such a thing?  Incidentally, this was at night on a very busy road and forklifts do not have head, tail or brake lights.  I thought you should know.

Every single day I have been in India I have seen someone driving the wrong way down the street.  If memory serves correctly, I have seen that 3 times in the US.

I saw someone who was cutting guavas at a roadside stand wash their hands in the urine stream of a cow.  Read that again if you have to.

Very often I see children that I suspect are as young as 6 helping 3 year old children across the street in traffic that has no comparison anywhere in the US.

I was riding home one day in my co-worker's car and we hit a dog.  Dogs roam freely throughout the city.  They sleep in the road and motorists just swerve around them.  This one, however, was crossing the road and decided to abruptly turn 180 degrees and got hit by our front bumper.  The driver stopped, and I was about to get out and tend to the dog.  She was wailing something horrific and other dogs materialized out of nowhere and were running toward her.  John, my co-worker already had his door open and I grabbed his arm.  It was no longer safe.  The other dogs had come, I am fairly certain, to finish her off to her death.  A few minutes later we saw her again laying on the side of the road.  She was dead.  I was relieved, and quite sad.

One of the entrances to the office park where I work lies where the city of Bangalore has decided to run new water and sewer pipes.  These pipes are 3 metres in diameter, made of reinforced concrete.  They're HUGE!  There is, I estimate, a 500 metre stretch of the access road to my office building that has been torn up so that they can lay the new pipe.  This project started in July.  Since October they have made a diversion for our road allowing us to avoid the 5 metre trench in the ground.  The first week of January they closed the diversion and now I must take the long way to work.  Some days it is 45 minutes.  Some days it is 100 minutes.  There is no rhyme or reason as to why.  Nonetheless, think about this for a minute: it has been nearly 6 months to lay 500 metres of pipe!  I am 100% certain that if this happened in New York City that they would have ripped up the old pavement on a Friday, laid it all down over the weekend, and it would have been paved over as if nothing happened for the commute on Monday morning. 

I am certain that someone could earn a Noble Prize in mathematics of they could understand and quantify the decision making process of the Indian driver.  There are seemingly no rules, yet somehow I always get to where I need to be.  I have often commented that every decision made here in Bangalore follows the same rules.  As a manager and project / program manager for international projects, my mind is boggled constantly.  Tracking projects here can be likened to catching a butterfly with chopsticks whilst wearing a blindfold.  Also, the typical Indian, if I you will allow me to make such a sweeping generalization, is polite and reserved.  Put them behind the wheel of a car, and their aggressions come out.

There is always a species tree flowering in Bangalore, and Bangalore is covered with trees.  The visual beauty and fragrance of these is unlike anything I have ever seen anywhere. 

I invited my team out for an evening of fun.  We first went bowling and then to a very nice restaurant in downtown Bangalore.  I had not been bowling in years!  The bowling alley played hip hop music - which I thoroughly detest - so loudly that nobody was able to speak to one another.  When we got to the restaurant everyone was very quiet.  Nobody was having a good time.  I ordered a drink, and everyone quickly followed.  Still, no talking and no fun.  Then it dawned on me, I am the senior person in the room.  They were waiting for me to do SOMETHING.  Being a novice raconteur I started to tell stories and I got a few laughs.  Then the waiter came by and I ordered everyone a second round of drinks, and told more stories.  Soon, everyone was talking, laughing and had a great time.  I learned a valuable lesson that day about management.  Side note: I get zero budget so I put the entire evening on my personal credit card.  There were 12 of us, we all had 2 or 3 cocktails apiece, hors d'oeuvres and a main course at a very nice restaurant.  The bill was $220 USD.  Money well spent!  Another side note, I asked each person a question: how many languages do you speak?  The fewest amount was me.  I speak English and rudimentary conversational German.  One other person spoke ONLY 3 languages.  Most spoke 4 or 5.  One person spoke 9.  Man, I am such a slacker.

Every day a man rides through our neighborhood on a bicycle with a blower contraption attached.  This blower emits a fog of malathion and kerosene to kill mosquitoes.  Many of our roads are cul de sacs, which mean that he rides through the noxious fog on his way back and forth.  He wears a surgical mask.  I paid attention during my safety classes in the navy and recall that he, at bare minimum, needs a tyvek suit covering his body and needs to have a respirator with organic vapor cartridges covering his nose and mouth.  Goggles are a must, too.  Again, he wears a surgical mask.  He will not see his 40th birthday, for certain.

Our maid is a wonderful lady that I estimated was close to 60 years old.  She is unbelievably polite and hard working.  We pay her 10,000 rupees per month which is above the norm.  For the uninitiated, that is fewer than $200 USD.  For entry into our neighborhood she had to apply for an ID card.  We handed in her application and discovered she is 48 years old.  People age quickly here, I surmise.  We have just been invited to her daughter's wedding.  I have no idea what to do and will ask a trusted local co-worker what to do. 

While enroute to my 2nd deployment to the Persian Gulf, my battle group stopped in Singapore.  Singapore is the anti-Bangalore.  Everything on the small island nation is orderly.  There is no trash, everyone obeys the traffic laws and even spitting is illegal.  We are planning a weekend get-away to Singapore for therapeutic reasons.  All of this might make you think that I do not like India.  You are wrong.  I love India, but we all need a break.

Paradise on Earth, Long Hours & the Continuing Experience of Living in India: Ruminations on New Year's Day 2012

On October 18th I had my first one on one review with my boss here in India; it did not go well.      It is well documented and understood among expats that the 6 month mark is the most difficult part of any assignment.  This review happened on EXACTLY my 6 month anniversary of arriving in India.  Perhaps my boss was having a shitty day; she made mine quite shitty, indeed.

Nevertheless, on the 22nd Nancy, Courtland, Effie and I flew to Kuramathi Island – part of the Island nation of Maldives.  The Maldives is a disappearing nation.  Experts can argue all day long as to why the sea levels are rising, an argument undoubtedly immaterial to Maldivians.  This is a small country consisting of a 1000+ islands, atolls actually, in the Indian Ocean.  The highest point in the entire country is 14 metres.  The highest point on the Island we visited is 4 metres.  Our Island was completely submerged and devastated by the 2004 tsunami, but has recovered nicely.

Leaving India and IBM behind, we departed BLR airport for Male, Maldives, the main island on Saturday, October 22nd.  We landed in a storm and had to lay over at the airport for several hours before boarding our float plane to Kuramathi.  The planes were tied up to the docks, which is an unusual site.  When it was our turn to board the planes we packed in and taxied out to the open water and were quickly airborne.  All of us had smiles on our faces.  It was still raining a bit but only in patches.  After 20 minutes we began to descend into what was obviously rough seas toward a tiny dock roughly1 km away from a mid-sized inhabited Island.  We hit HARD!  So hard, in fact, that the co-pilot (a young native Maldivian wearing Oakley sunglasses and flip flops) tore his elbow open on an exposed bolt on his chair.  He shook it off, wrapped it and helped us disembark onto the small dock.  Soon a motorized raft gathered us and ferried us to a nearby island where we then boarded another boat, this time a dive boat.  The seas were still very rough and we had a short but exciting ride to Kuramathi!  The boat pitched and rolled over what I estimate to be 3 to 4 metre waves.  Court and Effie were laughing so hard!  It was like an amusement park ride.  I was relieved that they were not scared.

Soon we arrived at the dock on Kuramathi and made our way toward reception.  While walking down the dock, a juvenile black tipped reef shark swam underneath.  I love sharks!  This was a good sign.  Sharks prefer to live on healthy reefs where food is abundant and the water is clean.

I was fewer than 4 feet away wading it the water when I took this photo.

This place was amazing.  The resort filled every square inch of the island; the service was exemplary and the food was amazing.  Those of you who know me understand that I can be a bit critical of food, and have been known to whip up a decent meal now and then.  All food was served buffet style, which normally leaves much to be desired.  Not here.  Every day, breakfast, lunch and dinner were top quality.  I do not know how they did it.

We spent each day without an agenda, swimming, snorkeling and bathing in the sun.  Some days the weather was inclement but it did not detract from the island or the experience.  When the sun shone during midday it was almost too much.  Kuramathi is 3 degrees north of the equator and we were only 4 weeks past the equinox.  At noon, we cast no shadow.

Am I a lucky man, or what? 

 Again, am I a lucky man, or what?

Courtland discovered that he loves to go snorkeling, much to my delight!  Effie swims like a river otter: completely natural in the element and always having fun.  The island is crescent moon shaped due to being the exposed rim of an extinct and ancient volcano.  The sand is not silica as you find in most places.  It is crushed coral.  It is whiter and softer than anywhere I have ever been.  At low tide, sunken parts of the island are exposed.  We would take walks out a kilometer or more on the sand spit and splash about, ever mindful of the little sharks (which are truly not a threat, but...) only feet away feeding on the schools of small bait fish chasing one another in the surf.  The week passed too quickly.  The Maldives are truly one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen.  It will be a shame that some of the inhabited islands will be washed over by the rising oceans in my children's lifetimes.

Good Bye Paradise!

We arrived back in Bangalore on the 29th.  Upon touching down at the airport and powering on my miserable little piece of technology called a Blackberry, I realized that this we the first vacation that I have taken since joining IBM in 2001 that I did not carry a laptop and do any work.  I had 573 new emails.

Our driver, Babu, showed up on time and drove toward the city.  It hit us.  I could tell by the sudden silence in our minivan.  The immersion back into India was a rough one.  The trash, the traffic, the poverty, the human and urban decay is overwhelming.  Kuramathi is a manufactured paradise: there are 700 people that work on the island every day, cleaning the beaches, preparing the food, serving drinks, running the power & desalination plant, delivering all the supplies and removing the trash.  All this happens behind the scenes.  All the services necessary to sustain  500 guests on a 1.4 km long island are hidden.  In Bangalore, everything is right in front of you.  It is hyper-real.  India's official poverty level is declared as someone living on fewer than $ 0.63 per day.  That means that if you make 64 pennies per day, you are above poverty.  I have a hard time wrapping my head around that.

I get the point!  

The other day Nancy was ill and I had to care for Court & Ef all day.  We were at the pool at the club house and Court said he was bored.  He was also in a bad frame of mind since his 2 buddies flew home to the US for the holidays.  It was a teachable moment and what I said next hit home.  I must have done it well.  I told him to remember that he is fortunate.  When he asked what I meant, I asked if he wanted to walk outside of our gated community and talk to some of the children that live underneath the tattered blue plastic tarps.  I asked him to stop thinking about all the things he didn't have; that dwelling on those thoughts will lead him to be unhappy no matter what he achieved in life.  He looked up at me and smiled.  No joke, since that moment he has been skipping around and playing really well with his little sister.  I have not heard him complain about missing his friends, even though I know he does.  He grew up a bit that day.  I feel so fortunate that I witnessed it.

He is such a character!

Thanksgiving in Bangalore was fun.  We found an Italian restaurant owned by a French man that served a traditional American Thanksgiving meal.  We went with several friends and had a good time.  Christmas was fun.  Our driver gave us a small Christmas tree.  Conifers are not very abundant, so we gladly accepted what we were given.  Charlie Brown would be embarrassed, but to us it was perfect!  We found some lights, ornament and garland and decorated the house.  We have a large lighted silver star hanging from our balcony that looks festive.  Several other people in our neighborhood decorated their houses and it was mildly Christmas-like.  The weather does detract from the season.  Being from the northeastern US, where December is cold, raw and sometimes snowy in December, having day upon day of 80 degree days with abundant sunshine feels little like Christmas.  This is not a complaint.  I love this weather.

On Christmas Eve I tool the kids to the pool and basked in the brilliant sunshine.  Both kids were in the water when I saw a familiar person from across the pool.  Then I realized that it was a drastic case of mistaken identity.  So far I have not told anyone this, not the person in question or even Nancy.  Since I made a promise to myself to be completely honest in this blog, here it is: I could have sworn that I saw my brother-in-law, Shawn MacNish.  The moment had gotten completely ahead of rational part of my brain.  When the actualization that he is 9000 miles away hit me, I felt a terrible pang of lonesomeness.  I missed Shawn so badly that I considered booking flights home for the whole family.  Shawn is a true friend.  Damn I miss him.

We spent Chritsmas Eve at our club house and had a nice buffet dinner and put Court & Ef to bed.  Again, Bangalore is not a very Chrstmasy place.  And let's face it, the kids want to see presents under the tree on Christmas morning.  My parents really came to the rescue here, so did my sis & bro-in-law Karen & Shawn.  My parents sent a package full of gifts for the kids (their second package of gifts did not arrive until New Year's Eve Dad, but I will get to the Indian Postal system another time).  I had bought several items and had them shipped to Karen & Shawn, who then shipped them to to us.  Add those to the few items we bought over here and it looked like Christmas under the tree!  Courtland, whose good friend Pele (yep, named after the famous football (soccer) player) turned him onto to a computer game called "Age of Mythology".  This is the only thing he wanted.  He got it.  He was so excited that he was jittering!  Effie kept asking for a puppy.  She's 5.  It's what 5 year olds ask for.  Since there is ZERO chance of me getting another animal, I bought her a plush toy dog.  She carries it with her where ever she goes!  It was a big hit.  Incidentally, while I was over here alone last April, Courtland approached Nancy and asked her point-blank: Santa's not real, is he, Mom?  Nancy broke to truth to him and he was OK with it.  We only asked that he not EVER spoil it for Effie.  He did great!  Courtland is such a kind and empathetic person.  He senses people's feelings to extents that I will never know.  I think we'll keep him!

Christmas morning was spent... OK, I know that some of you that know my feelings on religion might cry HYPOCRITE!  Let me remind you that I was rasied Catholic.  I was an altar boy for 7 years.  On many occasions I served Saturday night mass and Sunday morning mass in the same week.  Other times I served both the 9:30am and 11:30am masses on the same day.  I went to Sunday school.  I mowed the parish's lawn.  Truth is, I never believed a word of it.  I am too much of an empiricist.  I got thrown out of Sunday school twice for the dreaded act of "asking questions" and was told to GO SEE FATHER GEISLER!  I did.  On the second occasion he told me something that I have shared with very few people.  He said: "Jim, there are many paths to enlightenment, perhaps this one is not yours".  What I am getting at is this: you can't believe what you can't believe.  I realize now that I am in debt to Father Geisler.  That was very progressive of a Catholic priest.  If that had happened a decade or so prior, I would have likely been beaten and told I was going to suffer the eternal torments of hell.  I could go on and on about how Christianity co-opted the solstice festivals and made their holiest day to coincide with the pagan's celebrations.  I won't.

But I digress...  Some of the best memories I have are of Christmas morning.  My Mom always went crazy on Christmas with the gifts.  I am so happy that she sent us that box of gifts for the kids.  Without it, it would have been terribly lame for Court & Ef.

Since Christmas was on a Sunday, and Sunday brunch in Bangalore is always an event, the culmination of events required us to go to the Leela Palace Hotel for the obscenely ostentatious Christmas Sunday Brunch.  We went with 3 other IBM familles: 1 French, 1 British, and a fellow American.  It was AWESOME!  Roast beef, roast turkey with dressing and gravy, a whole ham shank, Indian, Mediterranean, Middle Eastern, Thai, Japanese and Chinese food.  To describe the desserts I would require more time than I have.  They had everything.  The sparkling wine flowed freely.  It was wonderful!  Despite missing my fmaily and friends, I am very pleased that we were here in India.  We will have many more Christmas holiday in the US.  This is probably the only one we will have in Asia.

We had a quiet New Year at home.  We ordered pizza, had ice cream and watched movies.  2011 was such a great year for us.  If you are still reading this, it means that you are someone special to me.  Happy New Year!

The Highest Mountains in the World!

Ever since I can remember, I have always wanted to see the Himalaya.  "The highest have to be the best" was the thought that stuck in my head for something close to 40 years.  Incidentally, Himalaya is both a singular and a plural, such as the word moose, and Himalaya is not pronounced the way you think it is.  Anyhow, I have found myself in India this year along with my family and these magnificent hills are, relatively speaking, very close.  I booked a trip on an Indian version of travelocity or expedia and it was cheap.

There was a reason for the low cost: the route to get there was a bit circuitous and very inconvenient.  We left Bangalore at 1630 on Sunday, September 11th...  Yes, I actually got on a plane with my wife and two young children on the 10th anniversary of 9/11 and flew to a low level war zone near Pakistan.  I digress.  So, we left Bangalore behind us at 1630 on Sunday and flew to Chennai.  Chennai is due east of Bangalore.  The Himalaya are due north.  We had a short layover in Chennai, thankfully.  The Chennai airport is a hot, sticky, small and dirty airport with way too many people in it.  Chennai is a big city by US standards, small by India's.  It sits right on the Bay of Bengal and is notoriously hot and humid.  It lived up to its reputation.  I think the heat and humidity was causing everyone to forget their manners.  Several times while in line to get through security young men tried to cut in front of us.  I either said something which, culturally, is not popular and makes people take heed.  Or I would give them a look that I was not to be messed with.  In all cases the jackasses trying to get ahead backed off.  When I got to the xray machine and was the next person in line, I was waiting for a little plastic bin to put my laptop.  A guard handed one my way and I heard someone behind me yell that they needed one.  I, being next in line, grabbed it.  I thought it was only logical.  The young man began yelling at me asking me who did I think I was and what gave me the right to take his bin.  I calmly told him I was next in line, and I need it.  He kept going.  Anyone who knows me is keenly aware of my penchant for becoming a total asshole when someone confronts me and yells.  After 4 years in the military I no longer abide being yelled at.  However, I like to think that I have become more nuanced now that I am in my mid-40s.  I certainly know that while I travel it is best to hold back.  There are cultural idiosynchracies that I cannot fathom and it best to let some scenarios play out.  Nevertheless, I have also learned that when I am right that is is OK to stand my ground.  This time I got right up next to his face, spoke through clenched teeth, squared my shoulders and said "I was next in line and it is mine.  Accept it."  He backed down.    
Our next stop was Delhi.  It would have been nice to fly direct from Bangalore to Delhi, but that was not part of the package.  We got their around midnight and prepared for a 6 hour layover.  We checked into a 1st class lounge, got some snacks and drinks and bedded down for the night.  The kids were jazzed up but finally fell asleep around 1:00am.  The Delhi airport is very nice, as far as airports go.  New, modern and HUGE!  We boarded our plane for the 75 minute flight to Leh.  Once above the clouds the kids fell back to sleep and I marvelled at the mountains below.  The Karakoram Range stretched on for what seemed ever.  Glaciers licked the through the valleys and nearly touched many of the peaks.  Leh, Ladakh sits in a valley between the Karakoram Mountains and the Himalaya.  I was enthralled!

The Most Dangerous Airport in the World
Leh airport is known to be the most dangerous airport to land a plane due to the thin air (11,505 feet in elevation), proximity to high mountain peaks and laying at the bottom of the Indus River Valley which has a tendency to flood.  We were in a Boeing 737-300 which is not a big plane by passenger airline standards but I could not imagine anything larger landing there.  The approach to the runway was port-side banking spiral between the hills until BAM! we hit the runway.  Hard.

We were warned to take no photographs out the windows or of any part of the airport.  Leh is a big military town and the airport doubles as an airbase.  While taxiing I could see concrete reinforced earthen mounds open on both sides with fighter jet nose cones peeking out.

A shuttle bus brought us to the terminal and luggage was already on the conveyor; except ours wasn't.  A very polite young lady from Jet Airways helped us, and via a 2-way radio she spoke with someone, somewhere.  She exlpained that our luggage would be on a Kingfisher Airlies flight and she would have it delivered to our hotel at 11:30 that morning.  I had zero faith in that statement.  Nancy, Court, Effie and I walked outside to find our pre-arranged taxi provided by the hotel.  It wasn't there.  Here we were, already feeling the adverse affects of the altitude creeping into our skulls, dead tired from lack of sleep, no luggage, no taxi to our hotel and nobody who spoke English around to help.  I called the hotel and the young man who answered spoke no real English.  I hung up and called again and convinced the same guy to find someone who did.  When I got someone on the line who spoke English, he explained that we had been expected the day before.  Nevertheless, he told me to get into any taxi and they woud pay for the ride.  10 minutes later we were in the lobby.  We quickly checked into our room, had a quick breakfast and all 4 of us promptly fell asleep.  At  11:30 the phone rang and we were told our luggage was in the lobby.  I went down to get it and the young lady from Jet Airways was there.  She took one look at me and apologized for waking me up.  I must have looked like hell.  Finally, something went right.  Over the next few days things would go right and things would go wrong.  Nonetheless, this one little thing, luggage, gave me a sense of relief.  I looked around and soaked up the atmosphere of that amazing place: the sun was up high, the sky was the most amazing color blue I have ever seen, it was warm, I was surrounded by snow-capped mountains and the hotel was quaint and inviting.
The remains of the day were spent sitting in the hotel's yard, reading and relaxing except for a quick jaunt into Leh for some shopping.  The hotel has its own garden and the yard was filled with wild flowers.  A cow mooed just behind a stone wall.  It was amazing!  That night we skipped dinned and fell asleep early, just after 7pm.

Acute Mountain Sickness
I rolled over at 7:00am on the 13th and saw Nancy sitting up in bed.  Nancy only sits up in bed if there is a book in her hands.  I knew there was trouble.  She was sick from the altitude.  She was dizzy and nauseated with a splitting headache.  I had a headache, but it was minor.  I felt a little out of sorts and had a hard time concentrating; in other words, a typical day for me.  Nancy, on the other hand, was not OK.  I gave her something for her headache and she fell back to sleep.  I took some Excederin and felt 90% better 30 minutes later.  After a while we all got up.  Courtland was very dizzy began vomiting.  Effie stood up and immediately became dizzy and sat back down.   Effie got back up again and felt OK.  She and I headed to the dining hall at the hotel and got breakfast.  The staff at the hotel, The Hotel Caravan Centre, were amazing.  They brought an omelette and tea to our room for Nancy and Courtland.  They treated us like long lost family and truly seemed concerned.  It did not feel like it was a thin veneer of concern as with most places I have visited.
After lunch Nancy & Court were feeling better.  Nan was doing really well and Court was OK, but not great.  He looked awful.  Nevertheless, we decided to go sightseeing.  We hired a driver and SUV to take us to some local monasteries.  The drive to was amazing.  We meandered the Indus Valley through several small villages.  The very bottom of the valley is filled trees and gardens.  The rest of area looks like pictures of Mars.  We crossed the Indus River and headed up. And up.

The first Monastery was Hemis.  It is set in the hills and is over 500 years old.  There were monks milling about the grounds offering polite smiles.  There were only a few visitors besides us.  There were so many stairs.  Stairs are nobody's friend at this altitude.  I believe my daughter Effie is part mountain goat.  She was running up and down the stairs.  Poor Courtland!  He could not even fake a smile for a family photo.  A polite man from Japan offered to take our picture:

The next monastery was Thiksay.  By this time Court was feeling worse did not want to walk any more stairs, so Nan, Effie and he found a bench near the parking lot to rest.  I headed up alone and began exploring.  Minutes later the other 3 followed.  Thiksay is beautiful and had in its shrine a 10 metre tall statue of Buddha.  It's hard to gauge the grandeur of this shrine from a photo.  It was amazing.

It was getting late and we decided to skip the final monastery on our itinerary and we headed back to Leh for dinner.  We went for pizza at Pizza De Hutt.  No joke.  It wasn't half bad, actually.  I have had much worse pizza in Boston or San Francisco.  We sat on the 2nd floor (what is referred to as the 1st floor in India.  What the US considers as the 1st floor India calls it floor zero) on an outdoor patio and watched the people and traffic go by.  There is a large and ancient fort built into the hill which towers over the city.  It was magical!
As we got back to the hotel Court had developed a nasty cough.  During the night he was up several times.  He developed a fever, too.  In the morning the hotel arranged for a doctor to make a house call.  The doctor was very good.  He explained everything to us in non-medical terms and explained that Court had AMS, acute mountain sickness and an upper respirtatory infection.  Nancy was feeling rather ill again and my headache had returned.  The doc gave Court an injection in the butt for the nausea.  This was a traumatic event for him; I'll spare you the details.  The doc also prescribed antibiotics for Court.  Unlike the US, India does not have liquid meds for children.  Court vomited the pills within seconds of swallowing them.  I am not 100% certain why there was a pail in the shower, but there was.  I was able to get it moments before calamity struck.  The doc gave Nancy & I pills to help us adapt to the altitude.  For me, they worked perfectly.  Nan still had some effects, but they helped her too.  The bill for the pills and the house call by the doctor was $22.00

Effie and I had another breakfast together that morning and again, the staff brought food to Nancy and Court in our room.  After breakfast I walked into Leh and took several photos.

Leh is a small city of 28,000 people.  It is fair to say that 1 out of 10 people in the city that day were Indian Army in uniform.  Leh was filled with foreigners from all over the world heading out or returning from treks to the high peaks.  One observation of mine that I found odd is this: these young trekkers are incredibly rude!  They seem too good for everyone else.  I tried smiling and saying hello.  Never once did anyone acknowledge my gesture.  On the other hand, the locals were very friendly.  I like to smile at people when I venture out in to the areas where the people live and the tourists avoid.  Invariably, when I smiled the locals would return with a warm smile and a hello, usually followed by a giggle.  One thing to note, the rudeness of the foreigners was limited to the 30 and below crowd.  The older folks were very friendly.  

I headed back to the hotel and watched Court & Ef while Nancy went into town shopping.  Money certainly changed hands.  Nancy bought some beautiful pashmina shawls and various other decorations that are beautiful and unique to the Kashimir region.  I cannot wait to hang them on our walls back in NY.
In Thursday Court was still not feeling well and Nancy convinced me to strkie out on my own.  I took my little mountain goat Effie with me.  This time we headed west of Leh 65 km to visit more monasteries.  We only made it to one, but it was far from a wasted trip.  The ride was awesome!  If you have ever seen a show where drivers in trucks are traversing narrow unpaved or at best, semi-paved mountain roads with washouts, swtich backs and absolutely no guardrails, this was it!  The road goes easily 1000+ feet above the Indus River at some places.  It was harrowing.  I loved it and so did Effie.

Effie and I arrived at Likir Buddhist Monastery 2 hours after leaving Leh.  We were far away from any towns.  The monastery is, of course, perched on top of a hill.  There is the obligatory statue of Buddha which was beautiful and inspiring overlooking the valley and the path to reach its base.  It was somehow comforting to me.  Effie posed for a few photos and explored the monastery with me.  We headed back to the truck that ferried us there and ate some crackers and peanut butter.  Effie said she had had enough and wanted to go back to the hotel.

That night we all went out for dinner in Leh and did more shopping.  The restaurant was a hoot!  It was calle Leh Garden Restaurant and was outdoors covered with tarps.  The floor was nothing but dirt.  The food was amazing!  I had murgh makhani, better known as butter chicken accompanied by some naan bread.  Nancy had chicken tikka.  I hate to admit this, but my dish was better than the same one served at the Leela Palace Hotel, a true 5 star establishment with top notch chefs in Bangalore.  It was also 1 fifth the price of the Leela's.  As soon as we got our bill it began to rain.  This would not have been a big deal if we had brought our gore tex jackets that were sitting in our hotel.  We had to walk roughly 0.5 kn to the taxi stand in a downpour.  We were soaked through and through.

Going Home
That night we arranged for an airport transfer for our 0645 flight out of Leh.  We arrived at the airport at 5:30 and went through the layers and layers of security just to get in the front door.  When we walked through the main entrance I scanned my surroundings and looked for Nancy and the kids.  Effie was missing!  A man with a AK-47 was grabbing me by the shirt pulling me through the throng of people surrounding the doorway.  I wriggled myself free and headed back to the doorway figuring she got separated from us and was still outside.  I saw her almost immediately; she was being marvelled at by a bunch of soldiers who all wanted to touch her.  This is not unusual, by the way.  Our children are celebrities where ever we go in India.  Effie is too damned cute, and Courtland is handsome with that flaxen hair which is, obviously, rare in these parts.  Many people want to touch them and have their photos taken with them.  Many older women will surreptitiously touch Court's hair.  Back to Effie in the doorway: she was standing there with a look of utter horror with tears weeling in her eyes.  I guess (hope) she'll never have a thing for men in uniform!  At least I hope she won't.  I am a veteran and know firsthand what goes on...

Anyhow, in the terminal Court vomits again.  There was fog and the flight before us was delayed.  20 minutes before our flight was to take off the fog lifted and snow covered mountains appeared.  Much more snow than the day before.  On the shuttle to the plane Court vomited again.  Poor guy.  I knew that he would feel better as soon as we got into the pressurized airplane.  Even if the atmosphere in them equates to roughly 6000 feet, that is 5500 feet lower than where we were.  We lifted off on time and it worked.  Court was almost instantly 50% better.  He fell asleep.

Our 90 minute layover in Delhi was stressful.  Our bags were not checked through Bangalore so we had to recover them from baggage claim and switch airlines.  We did so, and then had to re-check in with a new airline.  Do you recall that I wrote about the fact that Delhi airport is HUGE?  This does not help when on a tight schedule.    After getting wrong, or at a bare minimum confusing advice, we were bumped to the head of the line at check-in, raced through security and made it to our gate 10 minutes before the plane lifted off.

What did I learn?
Good question, I suppose.  It would have been a much more satisfying vacation if everyone was in good health.   I reinforced my opinion that anything worthwhile requires risk.  I knew there was a high likelihood that one or all of us would get AMS.  Flying on 9/11 was probably not the wisest choice.  Many of you know that I am atheist, which might bring into question why I would visit Buddhist monasteries.  Short answer is this: they are beautiful.  So are the cathedrals of Europe and mosques of the Middle East.  I have seen my fair share of them in each place.  I try to learn as much as possible about the world's religions and beliefs that fall outside the religious sphere to  better understand what makes people tick.  And why do they do, at times, such awful things purportedly with agency from their modality of belief.  I feel fortunate that I could share this with Nancy, Courtland and Effie.  I learned that I should have prepared better for mountain sickness and that I should carry my rain jacket while in the mountains at all times.  Mostly, I learned that this world is a beautiful place and that most people are just trying to get by meagerly, and that a smile and a thank you go a long way.

This Place Is Crazy! I Love It! Tales of the First Week with the Family

July 4th, 2011:
I had not worked on July 4th since 2002.  Here in India, not much is made of the Independence Day holiday, so it was business as usual.  I was still terribly jet-lagged and the day was long.  Despite trying to keep up with work while I was home, I failed miserably.  I had 303 unread emails and more coming in every moment.  Plus, my boss sits next to me and was talking at me rapid-fire.

Some time in the mid-afternoon, I got a call from Nancy. Incidentally, I had bought her an iPhone 3Gs 32gb before heading home and had it programmed with all the necessary phone numbers and a few apps.  "This Place Is Crazy!  I Love It!" were the words she used when she ventured outside the walled neighborhood in which we live.  When we had arrived 2 days earlier, it was night time and there was almost no traffic and very few people about.  Mid day in Bangalore paints a completely different picture.  One of the most striking elements to hit first-timers is the sheer quantity of people.  Combine that with the auto-rickshaws, motorcycles, bicycles, cars, buses, trucks, dogs, cows and lack of any real traffic laws and you have what appears to be chaos.  I call it "functional chaos"; there appears to be no pattern, rhyme or reason to it, but somehow it works.  Nancy had her first taste of India and loved it.  Here is a little example of what I see on a daily basis that would never happen in the US:

This short video clip is not atypical.  Please note, in India vehicles drive (for the most part) of the left hand side.  On my way to work traffic came to a complete halt.  My driver drove over the median and headed into oncoming traffic.  I figured that my final moments should be captured on video.  Alas, I survived!

Our first weekend after arriving we went to the actual city of Bangalore and visited the Bangalore Palace.  There is a charge for using a camera and I was not in the mood to be gouged by authorities.  Many places, including this one, there is one price for Indians and another price for foreigners when visiting tourist spots.  Usually, it is a factor of 10.  I can understand the reasoning behind it, but I don't have to like it!  As a result, we have no pictures of the inside of the palace.

After visiting the palace we headed to UB City.  UB stands for United Brewers.  Check out their wiki.  This place proves that India is growing up fast! http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/UB_City  The man who owns UB is a billionaire and is still only the 38th wealthiest person in India.

Anyhow, we went to lunch at UB City to a restaurant named Cafe Noir.  I met the owner of the cafe when I registered at the FRRO.  He was assisting his new pastry chef through the byzantine process who had just recently arrived from Paris.  The food was delicious and the desserts were as good as you can find anywhere.

After lunch we headed back to our home and relaxed.

I Sacked Our Driver Last Night

Last night I sacked our driver, Praveen.  Before I get into the particulars of that, where the hell have I been for the last 7 weeks since my last post?  The answer is many places.  Let's go back to early June.

Big Blue had me working absurd hours and I would carpool quite often with my colleague, John.  With the demise of Bobo, the long hours and the lack of sleep due to the anticipation of flying home on the 18th, I was knackered.  A neighbor asked me to dinner; they were going out for pizza at a local place called Chez Marrianick.  This place was awesome!  The owner is British of India decent.  His wife is French and they met in Tanzania.  They built their restaurant by hand and made a brick & clay oven which is wood fired.  They make their own sour dough, sauce and source cheese and other toppings from local farmers.  It was one of the best pizzas I have ever had.  Who knew that I would find good pizza in southern India?

A few days before I left for home I was messaged by my car rental place that also provides my driver.  My first month's bill was available and would be handed to me by my driver.  Oddly, each day for 3 subsequent I asked for the bill but my driver did not have it.  Bear in mind that he drops me off early each morning, does nothing all day (supposedly) until he picks me up in the evening.  Finally, two days before I leave for home he hands me the bill as I pull into my driveway.  The next morning I read it.  It was a total work of fiction.  I am allotted 12 hours per day, 6 days per week.  That is all IBM will pay for.  Anything beyond that is on my dime.  The bill showed that I had an additional 43 hours of time, including 2 Sundays.  This NEVER happened.  I never used Praveen for more than 12 hours in a day, nor did I ever ask him to work on a Sunday.  It also had about 1000Km of unexplained use.  This would have been almost $300 additional out of my pocket.  I wrote a letter to his manager that morning before being driven to work.  When I got in the van, I called his boss so the Praveen could hear me speak.  Several hours later his boss called me back and told me that I would not be charged anything additional.  I would have fired the driver that moment, but I needed him to drive me to the airport in roughly 36 hours.  NOTHING was going to stop me from flying home!  That night after I was dropped off at home and Praveen explained that they docked his wages because I disputed the bill.  I asked him why he lied and he answered that I did not provide him with lunch.  Not once did he ever ask me for lunch.  Plus, every week I gave him a 500 Rupee tip.  This is above the norm.  I was infuriated, but held my calm and reminded him to pick me up at 1:30 the following morning.  He did.  I got to the airport on time and headed home.

At roughly 5:30pm EDT I arrived home in Poughkeepsie.  Nancy, Court & Effie ran up to greet me, Effie screaming DADDY DADDY DADDY DADDY!!!!  It was wonderful.  I missed everyone so much.  Everyone with older children notes that in a few years my kids will barely make notice of me coming and going.  I'll miss the exuberant screams from my kids.

A few minutes later I was eating a pepperoni pizza from my favorite joint, Colanero's, and drinking my favorite beer, Lake Placid Ubu Ale.  It was great to be home with the family!  Over the next 12 days we were invited to numerous people's houses for meals, said good bye to friends and family, mothballed the house and packed.

I have to pay a SPECIAL THANK YOU to my parents.  They held a party for us on Wednesday the 15th.  It was catered and the rented a huge tent.  I was able to invite all of our friends and to my surprise, nearly everyone was able to attend an very short notice.  It was a wonderful time and it was great to see everyone in one place.

The Flight to India:
Truthfully, I was dreading it.  13.5 hours between JFK and Doha, Qatar.  Then another 4.5 to Bangalore.  In practice, it was easy.  The kids slept for roughly 8 hours.  Qatar Airlines is awesome!  They had special kids meals, 10 inch LCD screens at every seat with over 300 movies from which to choose.  All of this was made even easier by Genna Hanson.  She is a friend and colleague of Nancy's who flew along with us.  Having an extra set of hands and eyes made traversing airports much easier.

We made it through customs with no issues and waited another 1+ hours for our luggage.  Our driver and my colleague John's driver, Madhu, were waiting for us.  Praveen kept annoyingly calling me every 15 minutes asking if I was coming out.  When we did emerge outside into the rainy night, it was 5:00am local time and pitch black.  The gals went into Madhu's van, and Court, the luggage and I got into our van.  61 minutes later I was at our doorstep:
Palm Meadows Villa 321 Phase 2
Whitefield Airport Rd
Bangalore, KA India 560066
Nancy, Effie and Genna followed 5 minutes behind.  Did I mention that Praveen drives a bit too fast?

The kids were suddenly WIDE AWAKE and running around their newly discovered house; the one they will live in for the next 12+ months.  My colleague and friend, John, and his wife Wendy, with whom I lent a key to the villa, did some shopping for us and stocked the fridge and cupboards.  They also left a beautiful flower arrangement, a few bottles of beer and wine, too!  Despite it being 6:30 in the morning, it was beer time!  I poured Nan, Genna and myself a glass of beer and tried to relax.  The kids ate some cereal that John & Wendy bought.  By 8:00 am we all went to bed.  I woke up at noon - exactly.  I did not want to sleep past noon, and somehow my brain knew it was noon and jolted me awake.  For the next 90 minutes I tried to wake everyone else.  The best was to beat jetlag is to stay awake the first day while it is light outside and go to bed when it is dark.  The rest of the house was having NONE if it.  I finally succeeded and we went to the pool at the club house.  Did I mention that my neighborhood / compound / walled - gated community is really nice?  We spent the rest of the weekend doing as little as possible and getting acclimated.

On Monday I went to work.  When my driver dropped me off I asked him to go right back home because Nancy needed to do some shopping.  He arrived 5 hours later.  Despite a pretty thorough dressing down that evening by yours truly, and what I thought was a clear understanding that I will not tolerate it again, it took him 3 hours to make it back to my home the following day.  I was going to sack him that Saturday; enter serious complication:  Akila.  Remember the beautiful young fiance of Praveen's that wanted a job cleaning for me?  The one which I would not allow whilst living alone (away from my beautiful wife)?  Yes.  That one.  On Wednesday Praveen introduced her to Nancy and she was hired.  Exactly how do I fire my driver 3 days after hiring his fiance?  I decided to give it some more time.  Sucker!

Akila is a delightful young lady.  She did not, however, do a nice job of cleaning the house.  Nancy tried to show her how, but she would not allow her to.  You see, the Madam (the term which hired help normal call their female employer) is not supposed to clean.  You have to understand this one point: I never ever once thought that I would have a maid or a driver.  I had been to India several times before but never 'lived' here.  I did not know the protocols for hiring domestic help.  There are many, by the way.  First, and I know how awful this sounds, I find it detestable too, do not become friendly with your hired help.  Ever.  From what I am told by natives and ex-pats alike, is that they lose respect for you and feel they have agency to slack off.  I came home several times to find Akila playing cards with Nancy, Genna and the kids.  Hmmmm!

This leads me to this past week.  On Wednesday I was dropped off at work and Praveen told me that he would be back to our villa at 1:30.  At 2:30, no Praveen or Akila, so Nancy went to the pool.  I was unaware of any of this.  I got home at 5:00 that day and saw Praveen driving into our villa as John's driver dropped me off.  Akila was on our patio.  I called Nancy and got the full scoop.  I was furious.  Praveen knew he screwed up and kept asking where is Madam?  Where is Madam.  He clearly did not want to speak to me.  I also detected the sweet smell of alcohol on his breath.  Long story short, I made up my mind to fire them both that instant.  On Friday I told Praveen he and Akila were no longer needed and I called his boss asking for a new driver.  This Saturday, today, right now in fact, we are lounging around with no place to go.  It is wonderful.  It has given me time to write this blog.  Much has happened since we arrived 28 days ago.  I will write new entries for each of the places we went.

Mister Bobo Von Ulm - June 25th 1997 - June 4th 2011

This has very little to do with India other than the fact that I am here, in Bangalore and Nancy, Court & Effie are back in Poughkeepsie, and that Bobo (a.k.a Mister Bobo Gambolputty de von Ausfern- schplenden- schlitter- crasscrenbon- fried- digger- dingle- dangle- dongle- dungle- burstein- von- knacker- thrasher- apple- banger- horowitz- ticolensic- grander- knotty- spelltinkle- grandlich- grumblemeyer- spelterwasser- kurstlich- himbleeisen- bahnwagen- gutenabend- bitte- ein- nürnburger- bratwustle- gerspurten- mitz- weimache- luber- hundsfut- gumberaber- shönedanker- kalbsfleisch- mittler- aucher von Hautkopft of Ulm) had to be taken the the vet for the last time.  I should have been the one to do it.  Nancy has enough to do and worry about in my absence.  Nevertheless, allow me to indulge in a rare instance of nostalgia for my dog, Bobo.

Bobo was born in the San Bernardino Mountains in California and lived there for his first 6 months.  He was a pure breed from one of the best breeders in the US.  Someone in New York City had bought him but never actually got around to transporting him to his new home.  A breeder from whom I was planning on getting a puppy in Connecticut called me and told me Bobo's story.  She said that she was getting another female from this breeder and that they could ship Bobo along for a greatly reduced price.  Normally, Bobo would have cost big money.  I paid for shipping.  He was flown to Hartford, CT on December 26th, 1997.  We picked him up from the breeder's house in Enfield that afternoon and he stayed with us for the next 13 + years.

Bobo was (allow me some anthropomorphizing here) a narcissistic, Napoleonic, overbearing pain-in-the-ass, and we loved him dearly.  He was fiercely loyal.  He was fiercely EVERYTHING!  This is no exaggeration, when he was in his prime he could jump over 6 feet in the air from a stand still.  I saw him catch and kill squirrels, a favorite of all dogs, but Rat Terriers are hard-wired to pursue and quickly kill rodents.  He might have only stood 16 inches at the shoulder and weighed 19 lbs.; pound for pound he was the strongest animal I ever encountered.  I am not certain he really felt physical pain.  He once ruptured a ligament in a hind leg while exercising with tennis balls; all he did was stop running and look at me from across the yard.  When he began walking with a leg dragging behind him, I knew what happened.  The vet told me that he was so strong that his muscles overpowered his frame and pop!  Still, he never gave up.  He was running 2 weeks later with a kevlar ligament.  Regarding vets, Bobo was so muscular that every vet that ever examined him loved to run their hands over his chest and legs.  They all remarked on what a perfect specimen he was.

Bobo was not the best dog around children.  He knew the limits, and would try to leave the room when too much was happening.  Kids, of course, like to follow dogs and Bobo hadn't had a moment's rest for several years, until now, of course.  

I remember the day after Courtland was born and I brought home the little hat that was put on his head for the dogs to sniff.  The doula suggested this as a way to familiarize the dogs (we also have a female rat terrier named Tessa) with the new baby's smell.  Bobo rolled on his back as soon as he smelled it and became instantly submissive.  It was quite a sight!  I remember that day that we banished him from our bedroom.  He had slept at the foot of the bed one night.  I left the room to use the bathroom that morning and when I returned, he would not let me back in.  He was snarling, showing teeth and his hackles were up.  He was protecting Nancy.  Truth be told, Bobo and I fought for alpha-male status every day.  From that day forward, I put up a gate blocking him from ever entering a bedroom again.

I could go on and on.  I won't.  My final thoughts about Bobo are what I learned from him; I call it the "Terrier Mentality".  In short, never, ever, ever, EVER give up.  He lived life as if every day was his last.  I respect that.   He did nothing half-assed.  101% or asleep on the couch.  Bye, Bobo!

Saturday Morning Ruminations

After last week's post a dear friend called me to assuage some of the loneliness I was feeling.  It was a real treat to know that someone cared enough to spend a few hours on the phone with me.  It helped tremendously.  J.T., I am in your debt.  While we we talking the night away I recalled some stories about my time thus far that I have not included in the blog.  Here they are:

Water:
Upon moving into the house 2 weeks ago I had a check list of items provided to me by my relocation company. There was no water in the master bathroom and no hot water in the kitchen.  Furthermore, the water filtration system for drinking water in the kitchen was ancient, dirty and had parts broken.  I figured that I would try to fix the master bathroom water first.  I surmised that there was a valve closed somewhere about the house.  I could not find it.  I did, however, find a valve in the downstairs shower.  I turned it on and then turned on the shower.  Water came out.  It seemed logical that the valve in the shower turned on the water in that bathroom.  Right?  Not so fast...

A while later I walked upstairs and heard water rushing.  I ran from room to room and nothing.  I made it to the patio and it got louder.  It seemed to be coming from the top of the roof.  There happened to be a bamboo ladder on the patio so I climbed up to investigate.  To my surprise there was a solar hot water heater there with water gushing out!  I called Srini, the maintenance man for my villa and explained.  He said he'd be there in an hour.  Meanwhile, water was rushing down the house and soaking the side yard which really isn't much of an issue.

Surprisingly, the hot water now worked in the kitchen.  I was perplexed.  Srini arrived and climbed up on the roof.  He then went to the downstairs bathroom and shut the valve on the shower wall.  That stopped the water cascading off the roof and down the side of the house.  Srini promptly left.  Later that day I turned the hot water valve on in the kitchen and nothing happened.  The it dawned on me; the valve on the shower wall in the bathroom provides water to the solar hot water heater on the roof and feeds the kitchen.  Wouldn't it have been nice if Srini had explained this?  This, it turns out, is a very Indian trait.  The full consequences of an action are never fully revealed even when pressured to explain them.   This happens at work all the time.

I called Srini back to the house this past Monday.  I demanded hot water in the kitchen and a new water filtration system.  He seemed incredulous as to why I would want hot water in the kitchen.  He then proceeded to turn on the broken water filter unit and proved that it worked.  I then asked about how to replace the filters cartridges and he replied that he replaced them when the previous tenants left.  I told him that I did not believe him.

Hot water is normally delivered by what are called geysers.  Geysers are small hot water heaters installed in every kitchen and bathroom.  It's quite efficient; they can be turned on 15 minutes before hot water is needed and turned off immediately afterward.  It save a good deal of electricity.  To my surprise, Srini convinced the landlord to install a new reverse osmosis + UV water filtration system and a geyser in my kitchen.  The filter is in and works just fine.  The geyser is attached to the outside wall but needs an electrical connection.  So far, they have beaten my expectations.

Internet:
Internet is expensive and unreliable in India.  However, I discovered why my internet cuts out on me when it rains:

This is the cat5 cable that runs from my router to the mux about 50 meters away in a neighbor's yard.  I called the internet guy who assured me that he will replace the cable.  He claims the crew that cut away most of the trees and plants before painting the house did it.  Makes sense.

I ride in a mini van, even though I swore I never would:

This is a Toyota Innova.  It is about 3/4 the size of a Siena and has regular doors, not sliders.
Here is the Innova in action the other day on the way to work:

If it looks to you as though I am on a 1 lane dirt road in bidirectional gridlocked traffic, you are correct.  Welcome to India!

Domestic Help:
My driver, Praveen, is a nice young guy who speaks good English and grew up in Bangalore.  On the first day we met he asked if I needed a maid.  He knew someone that cooked & cleaned and he would introduce me to her.  The next morning my doorbell rang and there was Praveen.  Standing next to him was this beautiful South Indian girl.  She was stunning!  I immediately said, no.  Sorry, I do not need anyone until July after my family arrives.  As understanding as Nancy is, suspicion would have certainly been aroused (bad choice of word?) if I had been living alone for 6 weeks with a beautiful 18 year old maid.  Nan's is an understanding lady, but...

Later that day Praveen asked me why I did not like the maid.  I reiterated that I do not need anyone until July.  Then Praveen told me that she is his fiancée and that they will be married in October.  I felt awkward and awful.  The truth is simply this: I do not need a maid.  Then he told me that she works for someone in the very first apartment complex that I visited.  The one that was a true slum.  I felt even worse.  Still, the answer was no.

Here are a few more photos:

Huge Snail on a bamboo tree in my yard.

Patio After

Squirrel in my tree.