Adventures in India

In case you were wondering how people dealt with busy streets and less stringent traffic laws, I thought I'd take a short video clip of a typical Bangalore intersection. This isn't exceptionally busy, but you can still see that driving in India requires your complete attention.  Bicycles, motorcycles, cars, auto rickshaws, tractors, and cows - everyone is welcome.




But since I didn't catch a cow on film this time, I thought I'd add one (not recorded by me) here.

I've never particularly felt as if I needed to defend my rights as a woman. Most of this probably stems from the fact that I've been lucky to grow up and work with people who are not chauvinistic, and coupled with my own personality (I'm happy being a non-leader, and a support system for my family). I work outside of the home, and have never experienced a situation in which I felt somehow "less" because of my sex.

Frequently I will see groups fighting for increased women's rights, but I admit that while I support the great majority of these groups in concept, I've never been driven to participate. But even I, one of the more laid back and non-confrontational people you'll ever meet, had to raise my eyebrow at the sign Jason snapped a picture of near Sony World in Kormongala.

I'm not really sure why, but it seems like every driver we've hired to take us somewhere (auto-rickshaw or taxi) likes to drive with less than a quarter tank of gas. I haven't made my observation a scientific study, but all the fuel gauges I've looked at are always firmly on the empty side. And the boys and I have actual spent a couple of afternoons on the side of the road for emergency rickshaw repair/fuel issues. Jason's been with us on the broken rickshaw, but the below is his first experience with the fuel problem. Luckily, there are a lot of nice people in India.

Tyler, getting a free ride. On his own bike. :)

So remember the post I did on the boards listing traffic accidents? Of course you do, because you clicked the link. Well, my mother-in-law's camera was far superior to mine, so here is a better picture.


And yes, I tagged this as medical, because 'ya know, I'm starting to think half of India's medical economy relies on traffic accidents.

We took a different journey to Bangalore this time...instead of flying from Tulsa to Chicago (2 hrs), Chicago to Frankfurt (8.5), then Frankfurt to Bangalore (8.5), we flew Tulsa to Chicago (2hrs), Chicago to Dehli (14hrs!) and Dehli to Bangalore (3hrs).

Can't say I feel any more refreshed. But I'm also not any more exhausted than usual. I think it's time to admit that Bangalore is a LONG way from Oklahoma. I'm really glad the boys still get excited about planes. Below, a couple of views from various airports.

Yesterday we had a little scare. We'd just dropped Jason back at his office after joining him for lunch, and the three of us were headed back to the apartments in an auto-rickshaw. Our driver was Ramesh, one of the freelance drivers that sit outside our apartment to shuttle the residents to and from various pursuits. He's driven us on several occasions, so I was busy talking to Timothy and wasn't paying attention to the road, since I wasn't needed to provide directions.

Well, Tim was still sitting in my lap from when Jason was in the auto (we each put a kid on our laps because there isn't room on the seat for all four), and Tyler was sitting on the seat next to me, having lost his parental cushion. As I've mentioned previously, there aren't many traffic laws in India that are actually followed, so I shouldn't have been surprised when a car pulled out right in front of us and Ramesh was forced to stop suddenly.

I grabbed Timothy around the waist to keep him on my lap, but I wasn't fast enough to catch poor Tyler, who because of his size, went flying forward out of his seat. (No seatbelts in auto-rickshaws). Unfortunately, his head slammed into the back of Ramesh's seat, right onto a metal screw. The washer behind the screw sliced him, and I almost had a heart attack when I managed to pick him up from the floorboard, and saw his face.

Blood was everywhere. And I mean everywhere. He'd reached up to cover his injury, and manged to smear blood all over his face. Not to mention it was still coming out. I managed to hold him still long enough to grab the hem of his t-shirt and clean up his face so I could see the injury. (This is extremely hard to do, FYI, with a panicked 3 year old, a panicked 5 year old, and a still-moving vehicle.) Once I got a good look, I realized the cut wasn't nearly as bad as it first seemed.

Poor Ramesh was in a panic, asking if I wanted to take him to the nearest hospital. I decided against it, mostly because I was afraid I'd never manage to calm Tyler down if I walked into a hospital. Also, the bleeding had stopped, and the cut didn't look too deep.

Back at the apartment, I got him cleaned up, dunked both our t-shirts into some laundry detergent to keep them from staining, and gave him an ice pack just in case he bumped his head harder than I'd thought. When I was satisfied both pupils were the correct size and Tyler was having no problems focusing, I ran down the street to the pharmacy and stocked up on medical supplies.

For 160 INR I got a bottle of iodine (I couldn't decide whether they didn't have any peroxide or they just didn't understand me, so I took what they had), some gauze, and antibiotic ointment, and went back upstairs to torture my toddler. Several minutes and tears later, we had the wound cleaned out and Tyler down for a nap. Only then did I get a picture, so below is the post-accident injury.

I won't go into it here, because I'm self-aware enough to know that this post will turn into an enormous rant-fest, but I've had pretty bad luck with the United States Post Office. From lost packages to screwed up mail forwarding, I've experienced it all.

Well, I've decided: It's not them, it's me. My mom told me she'd mailed me a package. So the day I received a package slip stuffed in my front door, I wasn't surprised. After a brief discussion with neighbors, we found out the post office was located nearby in the nearest BDA complex (Bangalore Development Authority - I think. Each "suburb" has it's own BDA complex, I'm referring to the one @ HSR Layout). We piled in an auto and picked it up. Unfortunately, it was not the package from my mother. Rather it was a package of school supplies  I'd expected over three months ago and never received. Bummer - now I have to mail it back, since I already had a chargeback credit on my card.

Anyway, the same day, we came back to the apartment and found another slip. We assumed it was for this same package, and we just managed to miss the mailman in route. I found out four days later that the second slip was for something else. At 1pm on the fourth day, the mailman informed me the package must be picked up by 2pm or it would be sent back to the US. Seriously? I tried to ask why this is the first we'd been told of this, and the mailman miraculously forgot how to speak English (as an aside, this happens VERY often here).



So, I raced to the post office. I made it there by 1:30 and was rather pleased to see there were only three people in "line" in front of me. After several people shoved themselves in front of me, I pulled out the elbows and proceeded to do the same. "When in Rome" and all that. By 2:15, I'd successfully maneuvered to the front, only to be told "lunch break is from 2 - 2:30pm". Seriously?

Luckily for me, I very nice man who knew how this system worked and who also had more height and reach than I, took my package slip and waved it under enough noses to irritate the right person. They fished out my battered package and I went home happy. It was not a fun trip, but it felt surprisingly normal, except for the lack of lines. In the US, you get the pleasure of waiting in a line only to have your hopes of a streamlined, easy process dashed. :)

The complex has a large amount of paved area, so Jason and I decided it would be great if the kids had some bikes to ride around on. I should probably point out the bike idea was mine, because it gave me the opportunity to sit down while allowing them some exercise. Tim's gotten really good whacking the plastic softball we brought from the US, and I was tired of chasing it down.

We had seen bikes at a specialty toy store (I'd compare it to a Toys R Us in the United States) and they were priced at around 4000 INR ($87) each. The one thing I've wholeheartedly embraced here in India is the pricing, and I thought we should shop around a bit first.

We're glad we did. We found a bicycle-only store just down the road from the toy store with bikes in both Tim and Ty's sizes. They were priced at 2300 and 2100. We forked the money over as quickly as possible, before the guy noticed we were foreigners and tried to raise the price. For another 250 INR, they delivered them to the apartment. (Home Delivery is another thing I've embraced.)

So - I took a short video of Tim and Ty trying out the new bikes. Notice the baskets and seat backs on both of the kids' bikes. It seems this is the standard design for children. Also, I was surprised to see the brakes on the handlebars, instead of in the pedals like I grew up with. Regardless, they promise hours of fun.

The apartment Jason rented for us is very nice. On the top (7th) floor of the complex, it is 4 Bedroom, 4 Bath, and spans two stories. In HSR Layout, it's about a ten minute auto ride to Jason's work in Koramangala every morning. We pay around $650 per month, which compared to Tulsa rental prices, is a fantastic deal. But that's not the best part about our new home. The feature that takes the cake is the enormous terrace just outside the master bedroom. Overlooking one of the apartment complex's courtyards, it's a great place to hang out and relax. Since the weather is generally in the high 70's or low 80's, I spend a lot of time out here.




During many of my lazy afternoons, I've sat on the cane sofa and looked out at my neighbor's terraces. Many of them have potted plants, exercise equipment, or children's toys scattered about. The idea of plants intrigued me, so when I saw a roadside vendor selling them, I asked our driver to stop. I almost danced a little jig when I found out how cheap they are.

I bought two and took them with me and the kids in the auto. It was a huge pain to transport them, and I was a little sad that I couldn't get any bigger ones, because I had no way to carry them. Besides, these pots are pure concrete, and I almost killed myself getting them up here. I asked Jason to estimate their weight, and he said he'd guess anywhere from 60-80lbs. Whew! Did I mention our terrace is on the second floor of our apartment? (Read: no elevator access to 8th floor) I crouched down and balanced one on my knee for a breather, and my legs almost didn't pick me back up.


Jason asked me why I didn't have the auto driver carry them up, but the guy was really old and I would never forgive myself if I hurt him. Besides, we have an insurance policy over here, and I figure if I end up in the hospital, it will make a good blog post. Part of the tourist experience, right?

Anyway, this Saturday I dragged Mr. Moneybags and Mr. Muscle (both Jason) with me to see if we could arrange transportation of the plants if I bought some. The auto driver volunteered to get them back to the complex for an extra charge, and we agreed. I bought the five large fern things (sorry, I need a botonist to tell me the names, these guys didn't come with nameplates) for 270 INR (around $6) each, including the pot. Awesome price, huh? The small white/green plants were also 270 each.

The two I had bought on the trip by myself cost me 800 ($17), and I decided Jason has to go with me from now on because they tend to charge me a higher price. Jason didn't even have to barter and they offered them to him for 130 less. No fair!

But I digress. The real reason for this blog entry is so I can show off my newly foilaged terrace. I told Jason that I could probably make due with about 14 more large ferns, and I'd be set. He just smiled and said "Fine, so long as you're carrying them down when we move out." I agreed (I've got two years for him to forget). So - here's a video tour of the terrace, Phase 1. Stay tuned for the finished product after I get more plants!

Today our auto driver had to stop for gasoline/petrol before dropping us back at the apartment, and I took the opportunity to snap a couple of pictures.

One thing my children are learning to love is the lack of car seats. We usually hire an auto to take us places within our neighborhood, and if we are going long distances, we pay for a taxi. In the taxis, we generally require the kids to at least sit down on the seats instead of standing up to peer through the windows, mostly because the cars can actually get to highway speeds, while autos generally don't go faster than around 30mph (this is a wild guess-I'm still totally baffled by the kph vs mph conversion, my brain wasn't made for math)

But for autos, since they aren't even equipped with seatbelts, we allow them to stand up and grip the metal handles for support. Scary? I think so. But any time I feel like I'm being a little too overprotective, I just look to the vehicles next to us on the road.