I wrote an article for the local expat magazine, and it was reject on account of its being too controversial. Therefore, like so many highly talented writers I have had to resort to publishing it myself... (Please excuse the censored bit - it is very much precautionary and the 'poor people' are very unlikely to be reading - so don't think it's you!)
Going Native
My son and I came
to India for an adventure, to get away from poor CENSORED and even poorer
weather and to live an authentic Indian life for a while. So whilst many of you
might have come here despite the dirt and the traffic jams and the poverty, we,
in a way, came here because of those things. (This certainly doesn't put us on
the moral high ground - I still lie at night dreaming of holidays in Mustique.)
So, in March, after
a brief Google maps search for 'homestays in Bangalore' I found Noelene, (of
whom more later), and through her a (very) tiny flat in Kammanahalli. A further Google maps search produced a
school for my son - Bangalore International School; and so, having secured myself a
volunteer position on a child rights project with the Akshara Foundation, we
were all set.
We arrived, excited
and a little trepidatious, on 13th April. Two hours getting lost in Kacharakanahalli
(I still get lost just reading the word) eventually led us to our new home. No AC, no UPS, no bathroom to speak of. Neither does it have TV, wifi, phone, hot
water or much crockery to speak of, but we love it.
Since then we have
created a little infrastructure for ourselves, befriended the neighbours,
worked out the local shops and restaurants and negotiated the local bureaucracy. Of course the latter is a never-ending
mystery (see P.S.), but I have been guided steadily by Noelene, who has become my
stalwart Bengaluru guru. She looks after
my son when I'm working, cooks us delicious Indian meals, and, most
importantly, tells me how much I should be paying (or should have paid) for my
purchases. (As a Scot, it is very satisfying to know
where to buy the cheapest everything.)
But our journey so
far has, of course, not been without its challenges. Babysitting doesn't seem
to be a concept that's understood here, so we've had plenty of popcorn and
iTunes movie nights. Rickshaw drivers
are infuriatingly mercurial and oddly tribal. There are days when ALL auto
drivers will refuse to take you ANYWHERE. I confess I have occasionally taken to
international sign language to communicate my disappointment. And we
get stared at. A lot. (I've never seen
another white person in Kammanahalli.)
But for each of
those challenges, there have been ten hilarious/wonderful experiences. And I have met some amazing people, and had a
lot of laughs. Plus, it's warm. And it's so cheap! We are now four weeks in, and I feel almost
like a native. We have not yet started
to wobble our heads, but I can't help thinking it's not far off...
So in summary, if
you want to go native, here are some tips:
- Don't wait for the buses to stop. They
don't. Just jump on when you think you're least likely to get hurt.
- When you're turning right on a moped, look
determined, don't stop, don't make eye contact. A moment's hesitation and
you're stuck (on the plus side, it's actually much safer on the roads, as
other drivers are always looking out and ready to stop; plus there's too much traffic to drive that fast).
- Get used to lying: 'my husband is at
home', 'yes I've had lunch'.
- Always
carry loads of change. Apart
from the fact that auto drivers use lack of change as an excuse to
rip you
off, it seems to be a national pastime to want the correct money. I
recently received a gruff 'no change??' from the bus conductor when
I offered
a ten rupee note for an 8 rupee ticket. And when people ask if you
have change, say no firmly - at least to begin with. Otherwise you'll
have no change when you genuinely need it.
- Ladies sit at the front of the bus -
gentlemen sit at the back. Don't cross your legs, or put your feet up in any way, or you might be called a 'monkey' (madam - it's rewealing). Sit straight, knees together.
- Get a receipt for everything.
- If people stare, which they will,
smile. (Although rickshaw drivers never smile back.)
- On which note, if you've ever had the
urge to walk down the street naked with blue hair, go for it. You could
hardly be gawped at more anyway.
- Check for weevils before you pay for
your popcorn.
P.S. a note about
mistaken identity. I tried to register
for Indian Rail, but was told my mobile phone number was registered to a Mr Rasheed
Thaz. IRCTC advised me to get a letter from Vodafone confirming the number was
mine. So I contacted Vodafone to be told that according to them I was a Mr Peter
Ernest Dietrz (who still has INR1249.42
credit and whose personal details I can access online), and I needed to
provide a letter from Vodafone (nota bene), to prove my
ownership of the number...
