Not A Good Day

The title of this post was going to be "A Western Moment" referring to a moment we had today that reminded us just how Western and sheltered (and lucky) we are.  But everything after that moment earlier today just made it worse, so Not A Good Day sums it up better.

We started out the morning by meeting with the relocation company that Cisco uses to help move its employees to Bangalore.  The woman went through all the 14 properties she was going to take us to, and gave us a folder of information about moving to Bangalore, how to deal with culture shock, how to use the phones, where to shop for furniture, etc.  Looking at the list of properties I could tell right away that it was going to be a very long day, with the appointments backing right up to the 4:30 consultation we had scheduled with the doctor at our best-bet-birthing-clinic, The Cradle.

So off we go, the 30-45 minute drive ran about as usual, me staring out the window from an air conditioned car, wishing I could lean out the open window instead and take pictures of the cows eating garbage, the litter strewn rivers, the colorful school children getting out of class, the motor-scooters stacked with two adults and two kids.  When we arrived at the first property, a series of high-rise apartments allegedly inhabited by ex-pats and returning Indians (from the US and the UK), my first thought was "No way", but trying to keep an open mind, we continued on the tour.  Our first stop was at the clubhouse, which is a feature that is mandatory for ex-pat living quarters but which are not necessarily  created equal.  This "clubhouse" was empty and grim.  This was my first experience with a bathroom outside the hotel, and this was my first Western moment of the day.

I have heard some horror stories about the public toilets, and though this was far from that awful, it still was a shock compared to what we are used to.  I first noticed: no toilet paper.  Not that they were out, but that there was no place for a roll to hang, it just wasn't an option that was even offered.  Next to the toilet was a hose and spray contraption (exactly like that which you have on your kitchen sink, Katie), which I assumed was for cleaning the bathroom because it laid on top of a drain in the floor.  Later Chris informed me that that sprayer was what was used in place of toilet paper in many places in India.  Apparently paper is expensive.  Less surprising, but equally worrisome, no soap and no towels.  Again I thought, "No way."

The apartment was sad and furnished with droopy, broken down built-ins and bed frames.  All the floors are marble here, so that was the best feature by far, but still, not enough.  The apartments all come with "servant quarters", which consists of two closets next to each other, one in which the servant is expected to live, sleep, etc. and the other is the bathroom.  And here comes grim toilet experience #2 of the day.  Picture a toilet seat, stuck over a hole in the floor and voila, you got yourself the servant's toilet.  I gather this is civilized for India as well, that this servant is lucky to have this, as the poor have no running water, no toilets and use whatever is available outside.  The landlord assured us that we would never have to use this bathroom, that this was for servants only.  What he didn't understand was that to a Westerner, that didn't help the picture at all.  How could I hire someone to live in my house, be around my children, cook, clean for us and then treat them like a person that doesn't even deserve a proper toilet?

We moved on to an apartment in Koramangala, the property where one of Chris's co-workers lives with her husband.  Once through the gate, we found the property to be quite nice, groomed grass and plants (and signs requesting that we do not "pluck" the flowers), the clubhouse here was simpler and nicer, a gym with a spartan set of equipment, a clean room with a pool table, another with card tables, generally nothing fancy but clean, bright, welcoming.  I didn't venture into the bathroom this time, though I probably should have.  The apartment was huge, three levels of marbled-floors, three bedrooms (with a fourth one baby-sized), decent bathrooms and kitchen, a large roof top patio, and the same servant's quarters.  This was more like what we were used to, but still, could I see Ivy running around here?

The third property was off a dirt road, which is no indication of the quality of the property it seems.  The roads are littered with piles of stuff - garbage, rubble, brick and dirt piles, plastic bags filled with who-knows-what - and peppered with holes dug by 8 men standing around one guy doing some road work, women buying brightly colored plastic dust pans off a street cart, and dogs, always dogs, roaming, sniffing, looking sad and weak and forlorn, and starving to death.  And oddly, no cats, no cats anywhere, we have not seen even one.  I really do not want to know why there are no cats.

So the next apartment wasn't bad, much like the second, two levels with marble floors, huge bedrooms, clean and decent kitchen, roof-top patio.  Nice clubhouse, nice pool (that warns "ladies/girl" to always wear a swim cap), but another surreal location behind a guarded, gated entrance which I could never consider walking out of to take a stroll with my kids.  It is just not done, you don't take walks outside of these properties, you drive out and get dropped off at the door of another gated, guarded property.  I had no idea how trapped I would feel living in Bangalore.  I fear I would never leave the apartment.

The woman taking us around has promised us lunch, and had the driver take us to a restaurant in Indiranagar called BBQ Nation.  She just dropped us off and told us to eat there, when we invited her to join us (really hoping she would join us and be our shield from the mysterious food and customs I had yet to experience), she declined and said she had to go to her office.  We walked into the restaurant and were told that we would have eat outside because the inside was all reserved.  So sitting down at a table, we were both experiencing a bit of shock at being left here with no information about this place, was it safe for us to eat at, do they cater to Western stomachs, can we drink the water, can we eat the yogurt, sauces, meat?  I really wasn't that hungry and neither was Chris, and after an unsuccessful attempt to get an unopened bottle of bottled-water (we were told to always crack the seal ourselves), we told the server that we were leaving.  We called the organizer and the driver and said we were done for the day, and we were going home.  So we stood on the corner of some random streets in some area in Bangalore, with no idea where we were, if we were safe, me all pregnant and hot and on the verge of tears, and Chris trying to locate the driver before his wife melted down completely, with endless honking and beeping and swerving cars and buses and rickshaw and scooters, endless noise, and exhaust fumes, and people milling about, some staring at us, some ignoring us, all on the go to somewhere, and all managing to live everyday in this city where I can't even manage to leave the protection of the car and the hotel without feeling lost, vulnerable and alone.

So yeah, the Western moment was upon us, spoiled, privileged, unaware of our richness and fortune, living in luxury beyond most of these people's dreams.  What we make in a day, many don't even make in a year, and though I have heard that comparison before, there is no way to really get it until you see it.  My $1 tip is an incredibly large amount for many people here, for us, we lose that much in change in the seats of the sofa and don't think a thing about it.  I guess this would fall under culture shock, it took 3 days though, I'm told I'll get used to it, but I'm not sure that I want to.

We got back to the hotel, ate lunch and rested, and despite really not wanting to go back out there, we had an appointment at The Cradle at 4:30.  More on that tomorrow.

It is currently raining heavily and the sky is bright with lightning and thunder.  It is beautiful, in the way that lightning storms are, and the rain sound is soothing.  I hope I can sleep at some point and wake up to a new, and hopefully better, day.  Only 11 properties to go...

Comments

[Alice]

Hang in there, dear!

[Fatemeh]

Molly -
I'm so glad you're writing daily again; it's good to hear your voice, and I hope it makes you feel that you've got a connection to your life across the world.

[Katie]

Awwwww...I'm sorry you had a rough day. I'm sure you are still tired, and that doesn't help. It's always difficult to be out of your life--even if it's Hawaii (though it sounds as if India is not exactly Hawaii). It's exhausting! I promise that if you guys decide to go to India for Chris's job I'll send you toilet paper :) I love you--hang in there!!!!

Love,
Katie (your faithful reader)
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

[Mark]

I noticed that upon hearing you were going to India you wrote:
> India? Really? Like tigers and
> samosas and the Taj Mahal India?

No -- like hole toilets, choking traffic and power failure India.

On the plus side, there are some good restaurants. An acquaintance of mine semi-regularly blogs about them: http://edgeplay.blogspot.com/

When I was in Bangalore, the key was to take long naps during the hot part of the day, which also tends to be the power failure part of the day.

[Molly]

Hey, thanks everyone for the encouragement and kindness, it helps to know you are all out there cheering me on.

Thanks for stopping by Mark, I will be checking out your friend's blog, it always helps to not feel alone.

[debbieann]

Hi Spicetart -

saw yr comment on edgeplay (he's my partner) and came to read your blog and had a huge moment of that is EXACTLY how I feel.

We have been here 6 months and it is finally better. I still have days of not wanting to deal with the world outside, but mostly I am now comfortable.

I read your Cradle post and though I am not pregnant, that feeling of having expectations, and then having them completely ruined is familiar. the food with western names but completely indian preparations are the worst for me.

You are not alone! I had the same feeling about servant's quarters, so we now live in a place without them. Still, every cupboard has a lock as if people live with people they do not trust which they do, but I would find it so hard.

keep posting - it is great to read.

http://debbieann.livejournal.com/