tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-82807401580839430322024-03-13T11:15:56.109-05:00B-School StudioCatherinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04483372769461055922noreply@blogger.comBlogger70125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280740158083943032.post-54909508403354061532013-11-27T16:18:00.001-06:002013-11-27T16:25:00.124-06:00India: In Sum<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-U4MqaL33MkA/UpZuMMRf03I/AAAAAAAAEXg/hmGM2qVoNeE/s1600/IMG_2005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-U4MqaL33MkA/UpZuMMRf03I/AAAAAAAAEXg/hmGM2qVoNeE/s320/IMG_2005.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>"Excuse me, where are you from?” asked two girls as we
pulled out of Dadar station Saturday afternoon.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
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The US. I live in Chicago.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<i>Oh wow! You’re
American. I’m from Portugal and she’s
from India. What’s your name?</i><o:p></o:p></div>
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Catherine. What are your names?<o:p></o:p></div>
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<i>I’m Anaidya and this is Sumeta. We’re here studying. We’re in 12<sup>th</sup> standard. It’s like 12<sup>th</sup> grade. Are you here to study, too?”</i><o:p></o:p></div>
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(Bless you, children, for thinking I’m here for school.)<o:p></o:p></div>
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No, I’m here for work.
12<sup>th</sup> standard? That’s
great! Are you preparing to give (take)
your exams? You must be excited about
going to college.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<i>Yes, lots of studying. We study all the time. What is your
job?</i><o:p></o:p></div>
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I’m an architect. I
design hospitals. We had some projects
here but now the India team is working on projects in the US and I’m here to work
with them.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<i>How long have you been here?</i><o:p></o:p></div>
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Well, I’ve been traveling here for just about two years.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<i>Oh wow! Do you know
Hindi?</i><o:p></o:p></div>
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No, unfortunately not.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<i>You’ve been here for two years and you don’t know
Hindi? Why not?</i><o:p></o:p></div>
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Everyone speaks English to me! I wish I had learned Hindi. That’s something I should have done. I know how to say please, thank you, let’s
go, stop, and hello. That’s it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<i>So where do you stay?</i><o:p></o:p></div>
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I stay in Nariman Point.
It’s close to my office.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<i>Who do you live with?</i><o:p></o:p></div>
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I don’t live with anyone.
I live in a hotel while I’m here.
My husband is at home in the US.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<i>You’re married?! But
you don’t have a necklace. </i><o:p></o:p></div>
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(It’s tradition for Indian women to don a necklace after
marriage that is worn a certain way so as to signify their marital status. I wear no such thing.)<o:p></o:p></div>
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Yes, I’m married. See
my rings? That’s what we wear in the US.
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<i>Oh wow! We should
call you “Auntie” if you’re married!</i><o:p></o:p></div>
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Please don’t call me Auntie!
That makes me feel old!<o:p></o:p></div>
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(If you’re going to call me anything other than “Catherine,”
I have actually warmed up to being called “Madam.” Never thought I’d see the day when I liked
that moniker. But those who know me well
also know that you can pull a smile out of me real fast if you attach a “Madam”
to the end of any statement. Something I
once eschewed I now find endearing. So
it goes.)<o:p></o:p></div>
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<i>But you can’t be married.
You don’t seem old enough. You
are 22 or 23.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
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(Seriously making my day here.)<o:p></o:p></div>
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That’s very sweet of you but I’m about to turn
32. I’m almost twice your age.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<i>Oh wow! So when do
you go back to the US?</i><o:p></o:p></div>
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Tomorrow, actually. I
fly home tomorrow night.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<i>Oh wow! We were lucky
to meet you today, then.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
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(Who says that they are lucky to meet a total stranger?)<o:p></o:p></div>
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Yes, it was very nice to meet you both, as well!<o:p></o:p></div>
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(They giggle, and only now do I realize that a whole flock of
school girls has gathered around us on the train.)<o:p></o:p></div>
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<i>May we take a picture with you?</i><o:p></o:p></div>
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Sure, let’s do it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The group of girls start exchanging cameras and swap
positions so everyone can be in a picture with me. I can only imagine where these “clicks” will
end up but I also don’t care. It’s a
country of a billion plus people so privacy was forfeited a long time ago. Plus, let’s be honest, I’ve been taking
pictures of strangers all day long.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bb4XavV1BXs/UpZtrzRTx3I/AAAAAAAAEXQ/9hOZJwxAVEI/s1600/IMG_2015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bb4XavV1BXs/UpZtrzRTx3I/AAAAAAAAEXQ/9hOZJwxAVEI/s320/IMG_2015.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anaidya, me, and Sumeta at Victoria Terminus</td></tr>
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The train comes to a stop and we disembark. They gear up to head in one direction and I
move towards the other.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<i>“Goodbye, Catherine. Come back to India again.”</i><o:p></o:p></div>
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*******</div>
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That is where the story ends and, so too, the blog. The “Incredible !ndia” tourist slogan that beckons visitors to this crazy
land isn't so far off, as it turns out, and on this Thanksgiving eve, I am immensely thankful for these last two years and all that they have taught me. If I ever wrote a memoir I guarantee it would be titled, <i>Just Two Minutes, Madam.</i> But for
now, that’s all she wrote.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_eOxRkx3F0s/UpZtz8VE6FI/AAAAAAAAEXY/Tgc44N3ic8M/s1600/goodbye+cake.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_eOxRkx3F0s/UpZtz8VE6FI/AAAAAAAAEXY/Tgc44N3ic8M/s320/goodbye+cake.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Goodbye cake (<a href="http://bschoolstudio.blogspot.com/2012/04/india-first-days-back.html" target="_blank">#2!</a>) from the Trident staff</td></tr>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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Catherinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04483372769461055922noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280740158083943032.post-10279507182951638182013-11-25T05:37:00.001-06:002013-11-25T11:22:09.560-06:00India: Weekend Outings: I'm in the neighborhood(s)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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(<i>Written Sunday evening at Mumbai airport, where the internet was too slow to post)</i></div>
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The same weekend of the cricket match I got up and did my
usual Saturday morning routine of run, shower, eat, and sit in the lobby for
emailing and reading the news. It was my
one and only Saturday morning this go-around with nowhere to be and, for once,
I honestly enjoyed it. Part of that was
due to a random encounter with a guy who graduated from Duke the same year I
graduated from UVa. We got to talking as
both of us sat in the lobby reading our iPads and, as we later discovered, were
jointly waiting for housekeeping to finishing their morning rounds upstairs. Three hours rapidly passed while we
discussed college life in the south (ACC!), business school antics, our
supportive spouses, and our general love of travel but mutual loathing of
weekends abroad.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gJQy2qOeCks/UpMy72v3ykI/AAAAAAAAEVw/urUg4Xn3ZAs/s1600/IMG_1981.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gJQy2qOeCks/UpMy72v3ykI/AAAAAAAAEVw/urUg4Xn3ZAs/s320/IMG_1981.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;">“But you’re in a new city.</span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;">There must be so much to see and do!</span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;">How could you be bored?” ask our friends.</span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;">To which we both proclaimed, “You can only see the local Statue of Liberty so many times!”</span></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;">Yet, despite my almost 20 weekends in India, this trip presented me with a couple of opportunities to see something new.</span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;">A handful of train rides north took me to leafier corners of the city and lunches at my coworkers’ homes.</span><span style="text-align: left;"> The Sunday after Doha</span><span style="text-align: left;"> I journeyed to an area called Goregoan (Gore-ay-gow-un), which is about a 45 minute ride north, to have lunch at Shilpa's. </span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-h_QmS2HqziM/UpMy8SYBxYI/AAAAAAAAEV0/DGBj5wbl7bM/s1600/IMG_1988.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-h_QmS2HqziM/UpMy8SYBxYI/AAAAAAAAEV0/DGBj5wbl7bM/s320/IMG_1988.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Everyone was SHOCKED I rode in the 2nd class compartments. Um, they're no different than the 1st class.</td></tr>
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<span style="text-align: left;">Quick funny side story: Shilpa's domestic help came to clean up after we finished eating. In the kitchen, she whispered to Shilpa, "She looks like a <i>gori!</i>"<i> </i>(Hindi slang for "white girl") To which Shilpa replied, "Um, yeah, she is a white girl. She's from America and is here for lunch." The woman appeared very surprised and Shilpa has a wicked sense of humor so I don't think she bothered to clarify that I didn't come to India just for lunch, however delicious it may be. </span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_A-I1mwHyTM/UpMy8-obbvI/AAAAAAAAEV8/ejVM5UeEcCg/s1600/IMG_1998.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="137" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_A-I1mwHyTM/UpMy8-obbvI/AAAAAAAAEV8/ejVM5UeEcCg/s320/IMG_1998.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hills in Goregaon.</td></tr>
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<span style="text-align: left;">Then today I took a train to the end of the line at Borivali for another immensely satisfying traditional Indian meal.</span><span style="text-align: left;"> Before lunch we needed to do some last-minute shopping for my family so we wandered the market for spices and Indian cookware, then headed to Purvashri's house for lunch. </span><span style="text-align: left;">The food was terrific and seeing alternative skylines –with trees and hills! – was refreshing in the same way that heading out into the country for a Sunday drive feels liberating.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NgUtQqtmnUE/UpMy93tkDwI/AAAAAAAAEWI/ZGKrNgQnJe8/s1600/IMG_2034.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NgUtQqtmnUE/UpMy93tkDwI/AAAAAAAAEWI/ZGKrNgQnJe8/s320/IMG_2034.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The best smelling place in India? Open-air markets.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spice shop</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wMTPHUnzuS4/UpMy-5VL65I/AAAAAAAAEWc/3TV8_4jhyz4/s1600/IMG_2036.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wMTPHUnzuS4/UpMy-5VL65I/AAAAAAAAEWc/3TV8_4jhyz4/s320/IMG_2036.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flower stall</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TMpr37-1srg/UpMy9Wyg0_I/AAAAAAAAEWA/IAQVFK7e8rY/s1600/IMG_2032.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TMpr37-1srg/UpMy9Wyg0_I/AAAAAAAAEWA/IAQVFK7e8rY/s320/IMG_2032.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flower chains being made on the train, then to be sold at the flower stall.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9ztL5fUryY0/UpMy_8TOLWI/AAAAAAAAEWk/uwCKCOn7qKE/s1600/IMG_2040.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="107" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9ztL5fUryY0/UpMy_8TOLWI/AAAAAAAAEWk/uwCKCOn7qKE/s320/IMG_2040.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Green parks in Borivali.</td></tr>
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Recall that I am fortunate to have three hospitable
coworkers and I’ve only mentioned visiting two of them. That’s because the third office mate hosted
me at his house back in June. Instead of
revisiting his neighborhood, he instructed me to meet him at the Matunga Road
station for a quick bite to eat. Going
there meant departing out of Victoria Terminus instead of Churchgate Station,
so already I was game. New train line,
new chaos to sort through! In a weird
way for my closure-loving self, I had a smile on my face when I approached the
station on my last Saturday in India.
This was also where I wandered, admittedly with a good degree of fright,
on my first Saturday in India. Here I
was, two years later, walking around like I owned the place. Ha!<o:p></o:p></div>
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Anyway, I take the train and meet Chinmay on the
platform. We walk about 100 paces away
from the tracks and traipse up a set of stairs in an old but sturdy building. He warns me that this is not going to be a
typical lunch place and I respond right away saying, “Good! And stop worrying
about me!” Insert Indian head bobble
here.<o:p></o:p></div>
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It’s warm inside but
not unbearable and there are large groups of families milling about. Chinmay presses ahead to what looks like a
hostess stand that is covered with colored tickets. A quick exchange of some cash and metal
tokens tells me we’re ready to sit down and eat. We move to the left side of the dining hall –
the all-you-can-eat side, evidently – and select a table against the wall. All tables have chairs on only one side. This leads to a somewhat theatrical
environment where the diners all face one another while the servers dash around
in the middle with the food.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The all-you-can-eat side.</td></tr>
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Not thirty seconds after we sit down do a couple of banana
leaves show up. I’m told I need to take
my thumb and press down on the center vein of the leaf to fully flatten what
will become my lunch platter. Next, one
guy comes by with condiments and the main veg dishes. Then another guy brings rotis and he is
followed by the first guy, who now has cups of water and buttermilk to drink
during your meal. Lastly, another guy
brings two types of dal and curd (yogurt).
Ready, feast! Though I abstained
from the room temp buttermilk –blech.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here comes the pumpkin, just in time for Thanksgiving!</td></tr>
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I chow down on all the veg piles, which are cabbage, pumpkin
in a coconut sauce, and potato. The
pumpkin was outrageously good and something I hadn’t eaten before. Many scoops of that stuff ended up on my banana
leaf!<o:p></o:p></div>
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At some point you then ask for the rice course and in comes
another huge platter of food. I’m
excited for the rice-and-dal-smooshing course and get to mixing things up while
Chinmay pauses to give me a short history lesson. (Incidentally, I like eating
with Chinmay, especially in India, because we’re both left-handed and therefore
don’t get in each other’s way when pinching bites of food.) <o:p></o:p></div>
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These types of restaurants sprung up in Mumbai in the late
1920s when there was a surge of factory work and therefore bachelors. The diner set-up allowed single men a fast
and affordable place to eat before or after work. It’s no frills, it’s run as efficiently as a
factory, and the food is comforting. In
later years, these restaurants became a mainstay of family meals out on
Sundays. <o:p></o:p></div>
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After about 30 minutes of gorging, we decide we’re finished
and now we should clean up after ourselves.
To do so, you push all uneaten food to the center of the leaf, then fold
down the top third, then fold up the bottom third. Now fold left third in and then right
third. Boom! Clean table and some leftovers for the cows
on the street. There are some moments
where Indian simplicity strikes me as genius and this was one of them. Farm to table and back to farm. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The host is prompting us to take our lingering conversation
elsewhere so others can sit down for lunch.
We oblige, wash our hands at the communal sink, then head out of the
dining hall. An instructive sign tells
you how to take care of yourself now that your stomach is ready to
explode. Read up; this stuff is
hilarious. </div>
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We go against the sage advice and take a brief walk around
the neighborhood. The weekend markets are alive here, too, and Chinmay points out a pile of banana leaves. We know where those will end up! </div>
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I then return to the
Matunga Central Railways station and ride to South Mumbai so I can get a start
on my Christmas shopping. We part ways at the train platform and off I go for yet more Indian adventures.</div>
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Catherinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04483372769461055922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280740158083943032.post-58633595675623176782013-11-22T23:31:00.003-06:002013-11-25T05:51:21.427-06:00India: Ferris Bueller's Day Off - in Mumbai<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
And now for some real fun.<br />
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One of my daily habits is to come into the office well before most so I can get a start on the day in relative silence. A good 30-45 minutes of reading email and the news while I gulp down some coffee is how I roll before things really get going. The WSJ India edition is on the reading list. While browsing the site one morning in late October, a story announced that India's biggest cricketer - Sachin Tendulkar - was retiring and would play his 200th and final test match in Mumbai in mid-November. So began hundreds of stories and articles about this epic match and the speculation of what life in India would be like after Sachin. Truly, an acronym even emerged for this phenomenon: LAST = Life After Sachin Tendulkar.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nothing but Sachin articles on the day of the match.</td></tr>
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Anyway, to date I had never attended a cricket match. Anticipating that this is my last foray into India, I was pretty determined to find tickets for this but knew it was going to be tough. A reported 10% of all available tickets were going to be made available to the public while the rest would be allocated to the cricket clubs (like country clubs), business moguls, and celebrities. An email was hurriedly fired off to some friends in Mumbai to see who had the best connections. This kind of shameless networking is not really my jam, especially in the US, but as we've established, life in India is all about who you know and how you can get what you want through those connections. It goes both ways and soon I had a deal going with someone where he looked for cricket tickets while I hunted down an unlocked gold iPhone 5s.<br />
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He found some tickets and I found the phone (in Doha duty free!) so there you go.<br />
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This final test was such a big deal that it was all over the news in Doha and the airports and everywhere else so I knew it was going to madness in the neighborhood once I got back. And indeed, it was. I returned to Mumbai at 4:30 am on Friday and the ride into South Mumbai was full of traffic at 6:00 am with news vans and people lining up everywhere. An hour's nap and a quick breakfast was all I could do before returning outside to head to the stadium.<br />
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Marine Drive was an absolute mob scene by 8:00 am and the hordes of cars and people on the streets was wild. To queue up for security screening prior to entry, one first had to locate the correct line leading to his/her designated gate. This adventure ended up taking us at least 30 minutes but eventually we found the D gate line. Rohit was all prepared to be a polite gentleman and find the end of the line. I, on the other hand, was fresh off several international flights and knew the Master Blaster was up to bat in just under an hour. So, instead I took the lead and pulled Rohit ahead where we casually joined the middle of the queue. He was shocked I was so bold as to jump the line. When in Rome.... </div>
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Rest assured, we put in our time waiting to enter the stadium (noted by the red line below). It took a good hour to wind our way along Marine Drive and then onto some nondescript lane to find the D Gate, after which we then had to trek through a university running track to find what felt like the back door of the stadium. All the while, street vendors are literally in your face with horns, trinkets, or snacks. Or, they are trying to paint your face with green, white, and orange war paint. Rohit had to shove aside many a paint brush from my face. These guys were aggressive!<br />
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The excitement and dedication to cricket was easy to detect in the days leading up to the match but its longstanding place in everyday Indian life was made even more obvious when I looked at this map. The areas outlined in yellow are two of only a handful of public parks in Mumbai. And they are covered end to end with cricket pitches. As soon as the sun is up, the parks are full of men in white pants and shirts playing this beloved past time, all in the shadows of Wankhede (VON-cay-day) Stadium.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Saturday afternoon cricket.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cricket pitch at Wankhede</td></tr>
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We roll into the stadium around 9:45 and the roar of the crowd is simply electric. Everyone was out of their seats and cheering on Sachin (Sachinnnnnnnn, Sachin!) in what eventually resulted in his final time at bat. Celebrity sightings were posted on the jumbotrons in between videos of Sachin's storied career. A constant stream of projected text messages from people in the stands clearly illustrated the pure adulation that this country has for its favorite cricketer. </div>
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By about 10:45 Sachin was out on a caught fly ball. Suddenly, the crowd was silent as they realized what had just happened. That was it; no more Sachin at bat. He shook hands with the bowler (pitcher) and stoically marched off the field into the clubhouse while everyone stood and applauded for what felt like a half hour. Rohit and I stayed to watch a few more overs and then departed just before noon, and the requisite tea break. Such a gentlemen's game!</div>
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My tickets were for the full five days of the match. I won't even attempt to explain the rules of cricket and why five days may be necessary to get a winner. But, the cool thing about having five-day tickets is they were put to really good use by lots of attendees. The match started on Thursday and, as I was still in Doha, two of the hotel staff used them all day long. Rohit and I attended Friday morning while two of my coworkers headed over to the stadium Friday afternoon. Sachin wasn't batting but by then the West Indies team was up so S&P did get to see Sachin return to the game for fielding. By Saturday, India was up by over 100 runs so everyone was certain the match would end that day, and it did. I had passed off the tickets to another coworker and his wife so they saw the end of the test and witnessed all the pomp and circumstance of Sachin's <a href="http://www.espncricinfo.com/india/content/story/689203.html" target="_blank">farewell speech.</a> Everyone got to see something!<br />
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Things have since quieted down in the city and the news isn't constantly streaming Sachin stories any longer. It seems as though there really may be LAST. And while I surely can't comprehend the enormity of watching Sachin's final match (because I have yet to comprehend cricket...) I can say that racing back into town Friday morning, dashing off to the match with a good friend, and throwing ourselves into mayhem steeped in national pride was absolutely one of the coolest things I have been lucky enough to do in Mumbai.<br />
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Rooftop dancing and cricket cheering. This is India.</div>
Catherinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04483372769461055922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280740158083943032.post-13723794098163685922013-11-20T11:36:00.002-06:002013-11-20T12:26:21.869-06:00Qatar: Leaving on a Jet (Airways) Plane<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Fun fact: I went to Doha twice. In one week. This experience is best described as feeling like I was on a tryout for "The Apprentice" in the Middle East. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">First, let's establish the overall working parameters for Doha. The work week runs Sunday through Thursday and the typical working hours are 7 am - 3 pm. Upon arriving Saturday night, it was a fast dash to the hotel to unpack, desperately try to unwrinkle the suits, and then set the alarm clock for 5 am on a Sunday. Who thought this was a good idea?</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Doha from the air</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">By Tuesday lunch, our team was pretty whipped from the missing weekend but in good spirits nevertheless. That is, we were in good spirits until the project leader returned from the contracting office with bad news. A signature wouldn't suffice to execute the contract; a company stamp was a pre-req, too. While the rest of the team muttered about how this all seemed rather silly, I was on the phone with my team in Mumbai rather immediately. From past experience on international contracts I've learned that when you're told you need a stamp, you need a stamp. That's all there is to it and there will be no further discussion until you have a stamp to validate any words you wish to share. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We did not have our stamp with us. Not really something you carry around every day, amiright? But I knew one existed in the Mumbai office.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Up against the impending deadline of the project leader's Thursday morning departure, the two of us went into no-nonsense taskmaster mode to get a stamp in Doha in under 36 hours. Here's where things started feeling like they were made for TV because the absurdity level just kept climbing. FedEx and DHL couldn't get through customs fast enough, airlines don't do private courier services here, no one in Doha would turnaround a custom stamp order in under three days, and no one from Mumbai could fly into Qatar without a visa, which required at least 24 hours of processing time. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">After two hours we had exhausted every single channel and the only viable option was to put me on a plane later that evening. I had the visas, the passport, and most importantly, incredible hotel staff in Mumbai who facilitated a room in an otherwise booked hotel so I could nap, shower, and eat before getting the stamp and hopping back on a plane 12 hours later. This project leader is a very seasoned and very savvy traveler but even he was impressed when all it took was one phone call to set up my entire itinerary. I may have to name my first born child "Trident."</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FyUr-ZDtLYA/Uozkr4gWeHI/AAAAAAAAERs/kQqYfs7DUEQ/s1600/IMG_1959.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FyUr-ZDtLYA/Uozkr4gWeHI/AAAAAAAAERs/kQqYfs7DUEQ/s320/IMG_1959.JPG" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">View from plane after take-off. This is Doha's version of Lake Shore Drive/Marine Drive.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Anyway, back and forth I flew. Time was just as blurry as the Mumbai sunset below. I experienced a severe case of <i>Groundhog Day</i> when I flew BOM-DOH-BOM on the same flights, on the same aircraft, eating the same airport lounge food for several meals in a row, but was otherwise unscathed when I touched down in Mumbai for good Friday morning. </span><br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BkIad37oNBg/UozlLO3jrpI/AAAAAAAAESI/TBJQ524FFYI/s1600/IMG_1923.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BkIad37oNBg/UozlLO3jrpI/AAAAAAAAESI/TBJQ524FFYI/s320/IMG_1923.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Well, not totally unscathed, to be honest. Being on all these flights struck a nerve and at first it was a pretty bitchy nerve that was later humbled. <span style="text-align: left;">Something like only 20%
of the people in Qatar are native Qataris. The rest are migrants and
about a third of those migrants are Indian. Nowhere is this more evident
than when queuing to board the plane at either Mumbai or Doha.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Four check-in desks, one giant mess</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I was one of fifteen
women on a 737 jet and the whole cabin had the feel of a circus taking place in steerage. If
ever you have a stereotypical thought in your head about what it's like to fly
in India, I assure you, this flight matches that perception. At first it
was simply annoying and the late hour paired with my still lagging jet lag did
not help matters. My seatmate literally reached over and attempted to use my
in-seat television screen because his was broken. He treated everyone
within a five row radius to the music on his cell phone. He and his
buddies enjoyed several complimentary beers and whiskeys each time the bar cart
came by (and as a side note, I'm not certain <i>this</i> is the best
flight for an open bar cart.) I offered him my uneaten, wrapped dessert
and he took it, shared with his friends, then proudly deposited the empty
container in my lap. The plane honestly smelled, the noise level was
comical, and the boarding and deplaning processes forced me to push ahead or
risk being trampled. The tsunami of 18-24 year old men rushed through
each step with incredible vigor and my cranky self just wanted order. It's like what Bill Cosby says of parents: they are not interested in justice - they want QUIET!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Thankfully, each time I come close to getting on that high horse known as American privilege, there is something that knocks me back down again. That something was observing the non-Qatari section of the emergency department a few days later. (Yes, the department is separated by both nationality and gender). When you see swarms of young men hop on a plane in hopes of finding work and providing for their families, and then you see those same men end up in the emergency department because of construction accidents or car crashes from prevalent reckless driving, looking back on the circus plane full determined young faces is tough. On flight #3, the second Mumbai-Doha leg, I silently scolded myself for being annoyed by my first seatmate as the cabin revelry amped up again. It was as if I knew how the movie was going to end for some of this batch and it is not the movie ending they are envisioning. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Ok! So, enough of all this. Doha was a tremendous experience and I gotta say that it felt pretty cool to actually have local (!) professional contacts to call upon when caught in a bind. One of those contacts also came through on a fun request, too. Stay tuned.</span></div>
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Catherinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04483372769461055922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280740158083943032.post-2555524745633763442013-11-16T05:13:00.001-06:002013-11-16T05:13:19.415-06:00Qatar: Snippets of Life<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Let's hear it for Saturday.</div>
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I'm running on a full 7 hours of sleep and life looks so much better through non-tired eyes. It's time for a light post full of pictures and silly anecdotes, yes? Here's a day in Doha.</div>
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FOOD:</div>
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Everyone asks about what I eat when I travel. Doha had its fair share of Middle Eastern and Asian food, for sure. But it had a ton of continental cuisine, too. While the food tasted right, the names were sometimes off.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uoVZp2pJdNE/Uocy1OvwKUI/AAAAAAAAEOo/edDkaVXS1bY/s1600/IMG_1928.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="261" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uoVZp2pJdNE/Uocy1OvwKUI/AAAAAAAAEOo/edDkaVXS1bY/s320/IMG_1928.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Breakfast at the hotel. Note the label.</td></tr>
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<br />Or the packaging was different but identifiable.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-78nPPZQpf18/UocyzhpfH_I/AAAAAAAAEOc/7UJ3BiObt5M/s1600/IMG_1907.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-78nPPZQpf18/UocyzhpfH_I/AAAAAAAAEOc/7UJ3BiObt5M/s320/IMG_1907.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Diet 7 Up and Baked Lays (with a delicious pepper flavor).</td></tr>
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The most challenging part of eating in Doha is finding a place to dine where you can eat in mixed company. Every single day we had lunch, and sometimes breakfast, at the Starbucks near the client site. Why? Because we our co-ed team was unable to eat in the same cafeteria within the hospital. In Doha, Starbucks really is that "third place" that allows people to comfortably meet outside of home and work. </div>
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Dining out of Starbucks' display case every day led to all of us overdosing on spicy Santa Fe chicken wraps, spinach quiches, and ham and cheese croissants. As proof of our dining frequency, the barista wrote us goodbye messages on our cups. Someone left an admirer behind in Doha...</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MCyyIP3vhC4/Uocy5q7KE9I/AAAAAAAAEPQ/GUf7ZIQVI2M/s1600/IMG_1937.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MCyyIP3vhC4/Uocy5q7KE9I/AAAAAAAAEPQ/GUf7ZIQVI2M/s320/IMG_1937.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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BUILDING:</div>
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Construction happens at all hours. Darkness doesn't stop progress but it does stop traffic. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FRYuuSysGv4/UoczCoC0cYI/AAAAAAAAEQ0/QzqpE0p3ZPM/s1600/IMG_1956.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FRYuuSysGv4/UoczCoC0cYI/AAAAAAAAEQ0/QzqpE0p3ZPM/s320/IMG_1956.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">8 cement trucks blocked the road to my hotel at 9 pm.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZISYXtZsHGc/UoczB0G1tlI/AAAAAAAAEQs/16ec1RXU_ow/s1600/IMG_1955.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZISYXtZsHGc/UoczB0G1tlI/AAAAAAAAEQs/16ec1RXU_ow/s320/IMG_1955.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cranes all have floodlights to illuminate construction sites.<br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jitdf9TDKwc/Uocy8LtrL0I/AAAAAAAAEPk/UYWw9MKrTwk/s1600/IMG_1938.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="70" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jitdf9TDKwc/Uocy8LtrL0I/AAAAAAAAEPk/UYWw9MKrTwk/s320/IMG_1938.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">But during the day, not a whole lotta action.</td></tr>
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HOSPITALS:<br />
One of my favorite parts of my job is going on site visits and seeing how healthcare is delivered to different populations. This hospital is unique because of the sheer volume of patients it admits every day; it has the world's busiest emergency department and sees more patients in a day than most US hospitals see in a month. For the amount of patients (and families) moving through the building, one could naturally think that the place looks like a war zone. Instead, I'd say it's very Western in its physical finishes and appearance but it is laid out more like an Indian hospital, with more patients in smaller rooms.<br />
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To traipse through the ED every day without riling up security, we had to wear lab coats and carry letters saying our work was official. It was like having a permission slip to do observations and process flow mapping! Thank goodness for the extra layer with the coat because the hospital was like a meat locker with its very air conditioned buildings.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This will be my first and last selfie on the blog.</td></tr>
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I wish I had a full group photo because we were seriously the poster children for a diverse team, the United Colors of Benetton meets Medicine, if you will. Our team of seven included one Hispanic man, an Indian woman, an African American woman, a Thai woman, a Turkish man, a straight-up white guy from the Midwest, and yours truly to round out the WASP factor. Hey, someone needs to make sure the gin isn't left behind.<br />
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ENTERTAINMENT:</div>
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Speaking of gin and other spirits, Doha is dry in both weather and potent potables. The only place you can drink is in the hotels, which means that the hotels are entertainment hubs first and places to sleep second. We were at the W and those I find to always be clubby but its even clubbier when traditional bars don't exist. And if you have the impression that imbibing was high on our priority list, it really wasn't. Drinks are horrifically expensive. </div>
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STUFF TO SEE:</div>
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I can't comment much here but the last night we were in town we did venture out to the <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.com/Attraction_Review-g294009-d1768661-Reviews-Souq_Waqif-Doha.html" target="_blank">Souq Waqif</a>. It's an open air market about 10 minutes from downtown and was a delightful diversion. Much like the hospital being midway between American and Indian versions, so too was the Souq when it comes to American outdoor malls and Crawford Market in Mumbai. It was busy but not completely packed with people, you can buy traditional Middle Eastern goods but without having someone shove them in your face to tempt you, and it's tidy but not hermetically sealed like most other venues in Doha.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pet section.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Who knew chicks were so colorful?</td></tr>
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Does anyone have that song from Aladdin, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TkbOGaJqJmg" target="_blank">One Jump Ahead</a>, running in your head yet? No? Bet you do now.</div>
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For any lingering sewing fans, there was a large collection of fabric shops with stunning textiles throughout. Gorgeous silks and things everywhere. I stopped to peer inside one of them and saw several women shopping. This image struck me as a bit of a paradox and forgive me if that sounds culturally insensitive. So much color and pattern but little to be shown outside the shop's doors.</div>
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DRIVING HABITS:</div>
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One day we were coming into the hospital campus and traffic was very backed up. A sea of white, silver, and off-white SUVs and luxury sedans It was moving but only by inches. Next thing I know, my driver, a native Qatari, starts chuckling at the scene a few cars ahead. </div>
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My driver then explained the following: The guy driving the huge white SUV (in the foreground, not the background) was apparently so livid with the traffic, and the traffic cop's performance, that he parked his car in the middle of said traffic, got out, and went to yell at the traffic cop (red arrow). Notice all the space in front of the white SUV. Yeah, that all opened up in the same time it took our protagonist to get out of the car and go yell at the cop about said gridlock. And instead of having his yelling help the situation, it just made it worse as the cars behind him tried to maneuver around into the open pavement. Well played, sir. <br />
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Starbucks, SUVs, and frigid hospital hallways. It's like I never left home.</div>
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Catherinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04483372769461055922noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280740158083943032.post-39876100908788115432013-11-14T08:37:00.003-06:002013-11-15T01:00:06.986-06:00Qatar: Rhymes with "Butter"<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I'm not even sure where to start on this one, other than to say I think Matt may have been right when he claimed, "The Doha trip in the middle of your Mumbai trip is a little aggressive." </div>
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Months and months and months ago, it seems, a new project located in Doha, Qatar, was mentioned and I was asked if I'd want to be a part of that project team. "Oh, sure! I dig this international stuff." And I really do, even when I don't, which is how I'd describe my time in Qatar. Loved the experience and exposure to a new world but I'm pretty pumped to head back to Mumbai tonight. These are starkly different places, Mumbai and Doha, and I'll attempt to outline some of those variances in order to depict life from the last week.</div>
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I land Saturday night (following the morning meltdown, which was instigated in part by having to get on a plane AGAIN), I go through immigration, and I am greeted by the hotel chauffeur. The doors outside whisk open and within seconds I start cataloging all the ways in which my new environment is vastly different than the one I just left. Burning trash smoke is replaced by plumes of cigarette smoke. We go to the car and it's a BMW 7 series, which is evidently the fanciest of them all. (I am not fancy enough to know that without someone pointing it out to me.) This is a far cry from the rickety 1940-issue Fiats in Mumbai that I bop around in. We also have slight difficulty getting out of the parking garage because all the other cars are ENORMOUS and the spots were not sized as needed. Later on in the trip I actually took a picture of all the leg room in the car because it was so gratuitous I couldn't help but gawk.</div>
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The drive into the city center is short and full of things to see. A young skyline covered in LEDs catches your eye in no time. Is this Vegas or Doha?</div>
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Architecturally speaking, this place has pulled out every trick in the book. I guess you can do that when money is no object!</div>
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Note that all my pictures are taken from the backseat of the car. This is symptomatic of a city where few people walk and the street life subsequently resembles a Sunday morning in Buffalo, NY, at all times. In other words, Doha looked like a ghost town to my Mumbai-trained eyes. What else is different?<br />
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<b>MUMBAI</b></div>
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<b>DOHA</b></div>
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Loud, manually operated</div>
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Quiet, automated</div>
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Chaotic traffic and slow going </div>
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Orderly traffic but lots of speed</div>
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Crumbling buildings</div>
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Shiny, tricked-out buildings</div>
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Feels like an ant farm</div>
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Feels like an enormous corporate office park</div>
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Lost City</div>
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SIM City</div>
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Everyone touches you because there’s no room</div>
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No one touches you because that’s the culture</div>
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Small black cars make you nimble in traffic</div>
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Huge white SUVs make you command the traffic</div>
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I haven't blogged real-time about Doha for two reasons. The first, and most important, was to keep my mom sane by not telling her where I was going. Therefore I couldn't tell the internet about it! The second was that while I have valued my time here and the opportunity to work in a new foreign hospital, that is about all I have done: work. This is not because the project leader is a slave driver but rather you don't just happen upon stuff to do or things to see here like you might in other locales. And, as a woman in a fairly conservative country, being experimental hasn't been a natural inclination. Therefore, my remaining posts on Doha will be somewhat sparse but hopefully no less intriguing.<br />
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I'm off to find dinner before cruising back down to Mumbai, <a href="http://www.dailymail.co.uk/sport/cricket/article-2507114/Sachin-Tendulkar-final-test-Indian-hero-bats-farewell-Test-match.html" target="_blank">where the city is overcome with cricket mania</a>, just blocks from the hotel! Yay, people on the streets!</div>
Catherinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04483372769461055922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280740158083943032.post-4532865846201740062013-11-11T07:58:00.001-06:002014-01-07T10:53:01.599-06:00India: A somewhat typical Saturday morning<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Saturday started out rough and I'm not too proud to admit why. I had a "week five meltdown"...four days into my travels.</div>
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A "week five meltdown" is just shy of a validated medical diagnosis in our house. Why the "week five" designation? Because on each of my long trips last winter and spring, this little sobfest occurred precisely five weeks into each stay. Contributing factors include exhaustion, work deadlines, a weekend morning with nowhere to be, and good-natured but unsolicited commentary that I "should really spend more time with Matt." </div>
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Despite the marvel of being in a foreign country - and knowing full well that this is an experience to be appreciated - life on the road takes its toll. It sneaks up on you and suddenly you are overwhelmed by it all. Homesickness isn't even the right way to describe it. Instead, it's uncertainty, it's doubt, it's loneliness, it's vulnerability, it's defeat. The next thing you know, you're crying while running. <a href="http://bschoolstudio.blogspot.com/2012/05/india-somebody-get-me-walkman.html" target="_blank">Again</a>.</div>
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After a reassuring call with Matt, I picked myself up and headed down for breakfast before going over to the office for a few hours. My elevator ride introduced me to a Russian man who asked if I did a 10k that morning. Huh? I wasn't in my running clothes. </div>
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"I've seen you come in the last few mornings. You run a lot, yeah? And you know all the hotel staff and they know you. You must be here a lot, yeah?"</div>
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Yeah. And you're <a href="http://bschoolstudio.blogspot.com/2012/02/india-habit-forming.html" target="_blank">not the first</a> to come to this conclusion.</div>
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Next I'm in a taxi with a particularly chatty driver. We go back and forth about me being from America and how many times I've been over to India. After some time he must have decided we were close enough friends for him to provide marriage advice. </div>
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"You married? Where is your husband? Oh, he's not at the hotel. That is bad. You should see him."</div>
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Seriously. </div>
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All this AFTER I had already cried out tears of guilt. </div>
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It would be easy to start feeling really sorry for oneself under such conditions and I was quickly headed in that direction. But even through the snot and sobs, I knew enough to know that this, too, shall pass. And by that I mean not only the meltdown but the India experience entirely. The taxi stopped to let me out and I consciously watched all that was happening, taking comfort in the simplicity of certain things against the backdrop of an otherwise emotionally-complex morning.</div>
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Diwali lanterns fluttered gently in the breeze, providing something soft against all the other hard surfaces.</div>
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A cow rooted through last night's leftovers.</div>
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And a pack of men and boys rode in the back of a truck, watching me as I watched them.</div>
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So, to prevent this from being nothing but sad trombones, I'll finish up by saying I got some time in by the pool later that afternoon and a mega hit of vitamin D, thanks to the Mumbai sun, certainly lifted my spirits. If there's one thing I've learned through an intense amount of business travel, it's that there will always be emotional tension. Appreciating the uniqueness of life outside without letting it come at the expense of appreciating life back home can be tough, but thankfully I have random strangers reminding me of how the priorities ultimately stack up. Who knew Matt had so many fans in India? </div>
Catherinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04483372769461055922noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280740158083943032.post-39703065598834220042013-11-09T03:18:00.003-06:002014-01-07T10:53:01.597-06:00India: Diwali<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
After five trips in a little under two years, it was about time that I finally experience <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Diwali" target="_blank">Diwali</a> in India.<br />
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The sights and sounds of arguably India's biggest festival hit me - almost literally - as soon as I got out of the airport and was traveling to the hotel. Fireworks were going off everywhere. You would have thought that the entire city turned into nothing but 8 year old boys o<span style="text-align: left;">n Tuesday evening, given the elaborate and chaotic pyrotechnic displays. But because it was literally amateur hour, one such rocket careened right past my car. Welcome back to lawless Mumbai!</span></div>
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The fireworks and revelry continued on late into the night and I was treated to several finales outside my hotel room window. Marine Drive is lively at any point in the year but it really kicks it up a notch during festivals. This would have been terribly romantic and fun to watch had it not been for the facts that a) I'm alone and b) I was trying to get into some decent sleeping rhythm. Fireworks fail.</div>
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The next day was my first day back in the office. As I reached the top of the stairs, one of the office boys was starting an elaborate sand art design on the floor. </div>
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<span style="text-align: left;">Somewhere midway through, however, it changed from being a Hindu god to a flower. Delightful, nonetheless. The office itself was decorated, too, in anticipation of the office Diwali party happening later that evening.</span></div>
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I was forewarned that all partygoers were requested to dress in traditional Indian attire and saris fit that bill. As much as I love my sari (seriously, it's quite comfortable) there was no way I was squeezing in one more piece of clothing in my baggage, especially given my self-imposed carry-on only approach. </div>
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My packing efficiency was not appreciated. By noon, my office mates were already thinking of shops to try out in search of more appropriate party-wear for me. By four o'clock, we were in a taxi and an hour after that, I had expanded my Indian wardrobe to now include a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shalwar_kameez" target="_blank">salwar kameez</a>. Lest you think this was a fast purchase, I must have tried on at least six or seven different outfits, each with random pom-pom trim, rich embroidery, sheer sleeves, you name it. It kind of felt like I was a dress-up doll for my coworkers; Malibu Barbie gets replaced by Mumbai Barbie.</div>
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Anyway, let's get to the party. Things kick off around 7 pm. Mind you, I am working off of 3 hours of sleep (thank you, fireworks) and am utterly exhausted. We hike our way up to the ninth floor of a nearby hotel where there is a new-to-me roof deck. The views were simply spectacular: the Taj Hotel dome was in one corner, the sea in another, and the skyline of south Mumbai was front and center. I don't say this often but it was breathtaking.</div>
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The party starts out like any standard office party, with people behaving all civilized and such, boys on one side, girls on the other. </div>
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Someone decided enough was enough, however, and in short order chairs were being arranged for a drinking game. Apparently having everyone sit classroom-style while they chug beers makes it easier for the referee to catch cheaters. </div>
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Ahhh! Victory!</div>
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Several rounds of the same ensue until yet another person decides this is not bringing the requisite party atmosphere. Solution? Bollywood dance music, naturally!</div>
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Notice that I am not in any of these photos. Instead, I am off to the side, exhibiting the finest jet-lagged face I possess:<br />
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But fear not. My sympathetic office mates sure know how to take advantage of me when I'm down. I was out on the dance floor and even managed to get some wrist-twisting, hip-slinging, floor-pounding moves in, thanks to a couple of enthusiastic instructors. Under normal circumstances I avoid dancing at all costs. And I don't know if it was the perfect mix of no sleep and several beers, but dancing on a rooftop in Mumbai will always be one of my favorite memories.</div>
Catherinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04483372769461055922noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280740158083943032.post-33410036556041070572013-11-04T18:11:00.003-06:002014-01-07T10:53:01.595-06:00India: Tomorrow Day After<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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We meet again, friends.
It’s good to be here, even if I had a semi-significant amount of anxiety
leading up to this point. More to come on that.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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I’m hurtling past the “flyover states” on my way to Newark
airport in order to catch the epic 16 hour odyssey that is flight UA48,
EWR-BOM. I’m also hurtling toward a
project deadline and a project kick-off.
The next three weeks are going to be busy, to say the least.<o:p></o:p></div>
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But before we get back into India let’s talk about India
being in the US. The last three weeks
were busy, too, as we hosted our team from Mumbai in Chicago. It was a fun turning of the tables, with me
as weekend tour guide and food finder, and it was enlightening for both sides
to see what it’s like when you are now the host or the guest. “Everything here is so convenient” was the
oft-repeated mantra from our visitors.
Make of that what you will; it gave me pause after I heard it the fifth
or sixth time.<o:p></o:p></div>
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One of the best parts of having the Mumbai team in Chicago
was watching both parts of my overall project team meet in person – and
subsequently abolish all their preconceived notions of each other! Skype and email communiques really can throw
of your judgment. As we’ve all probably
heard, it’s not what you say but how you say it. And, in the case of our Mumbai-Chicago
pairing, we are often saying the same thing yet with different words or
phrasing. My Chicago folks have pointed
out that after two years of this India stuff, I have certainly picked up a few
of the local phrases. Here now, a guide
to Indian and American (Ahmurican!) English:<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>Ahmurican</b></div>
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<b>Indian</b></div>
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<b>Use it in a sentence, please.</b></div>
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Hours</div>
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Timings</div>
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Office timings are 8-5 pm.</div>
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Work</div>
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Office</div>
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I go to work, whereas Nikhil goes to office, not <i>the</i> office.</div>
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This morning</div>
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Today morning</div>
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Today morning, I had breakfast before going to office.</div>
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</tr>
<tr>
<td style="border-top: none; border: solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Day after tomorrow</div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Tomorrow day after</div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Tomorrow day after, I will be working in Mumbai.</div>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="border-top: none; border: solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Yet, or <i>as of</i> yet</div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
As yet</div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
There is no answer as yet.</div>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="border-top: none; border: solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Sunglasses</div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Glares</div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
She put on her glares so she wouldn’t squint.</div>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="border-top: none; border: solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Grouped</div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Clubbed</div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Those rooms are clubbed together in the department.</div>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="border-top: none; border: solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Carry-on baggage</div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Hand/cabin luggages</div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Be sure to get your hand luggages stamped in security.</div>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="border-top: none; border: solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Arrived</div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Reached</div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
I reached home later than planned.</div>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="border-top: none; border: solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Respond/response</div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Revert back/revert</div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Please accept my apologies for the delayed revert.</div>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="border-top: none; border: solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Move up</div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Pre-pone</div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
My calendar opened up so we can pre-pone the meeting.</div>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="border-top: none; border: solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
I request that</div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
I request you</div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
I request you to send me confirmation.</div>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="border-top: none; border: solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Get rest</div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Take rest</div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Take rest so you feel better.</div>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="border-top: none; border: solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Will </div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Shall</div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
I shall send it over. (It’s surprising how often “shall” is used
instead of “will.”)</div>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="border-top: none; border: solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Text</div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
SMS</div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
SMS me when you arrive.</div>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="border-top: none; border: solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Undecided</div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
In/of two minds</div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
You were of two minds about what to pack.</div>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="border-top: none; border: solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Mail</div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Post</div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
He sent it to you via post.</div>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="border-top: none; border: solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Private office</div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Cabin</div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
She was on a conference call in her cabin.</div>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="border-top: none; border: solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Street</div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Lane</div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
It’s on the next lane over.</div>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="border-top: none; border: solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Complain</div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Crib</div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
He was cribbing to his mom about the dinner menu.</div>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="border-top: none; border: solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Live</div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Stay</div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
My friend stays in Goregoan.</div>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="border-top: none; border: solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Take a picture</div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Click a photo</div>
</td>
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We clicked lots of photos at the party.</div>
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Many</div>
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Lot many</div>
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There are lot many things to do today.</div>
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<br />This list is by no means comprehensive and I will try to add
to it as this next adventure unfolds. I
find a certain charm to it all; we’re speaking the same root language and yet
there are times when we have no idea what the other side is saying. </div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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It’s time to sign off and gear up for the long haul over
there. Let’s talk again, tomorrow day
after.</div>
</div>
Catherinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04483372769461055922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280740158083943032.post-74497017930872170932013-06-14T11:50:00.000-05:002014-01-07T10:53:01.604-06:00India: Monsooner or Later<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Here we are again, kids. Me waiting for the 11:10 pm departure of flight UA49 at Mumbai International Airport. The time didn't fly, it evaporated.</div>
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Continuing in the theme of beauty products foreshadowing life, the nail polish I was sporting on my toes when I landed was OPI's "Monsooner or Later." I got to experience the monsoon season in all its early glory during this trip. What's funny is almost nothing is perfectly on time in India and rarer yet are things ahead of schedule. Except the 2013 rains. They showed up on Sunday, two days before the meteorologists' predictions, and it has been a soggy city ever since.</div>
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I was told that Mumbai can be at its most charming during "the rains." Indeed, it has a certain appeal. Suddenly, drinking hot coffee on a dark leather chair doesn't seem out of place. Fun detail: my coworker Purvashri used my name to place the order because apparently the anglo-saxon "Catherine" is easier to spell (kind of) than the indigenous "Purvashri?"</div>
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Laundry hanging to dry never quite dries. I tried to dry out my running clothes in the hotel by cranking up the A/C. Bad idea. All it did was put a chill in the air while failing to crisp things up simultaneously. On the upside, my skin has never looked so moisturized.</div>
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During many of the late nights on the phone, the general silence outside would be interrupted by a sudden uproar of cheers and horns honking. I quickly learned that this meant the rain was falling more intensely and everyone was rejoicing. Yes, loving getting drenched. I wanted to go out one night and take part in the giant communal baptism but feared my clothes would be a soggy disaster when trying to pack. Next time.</div>
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Cab rides are the poor man's version of a day at the spa AND amusement park. You hop in and within minutes everything is steamy because no one wants to crank open a window and yet air conditioning isn't a standard feature in the mini Fiats. After you've received your complimentary steam treatment you then exit the vehicle and feel a very soggy bottom. It's the same sensation as riding the log flume ride at your favorite amusement park. You get in the log/taxi thinking "Hey, this seat's pretty dry so there's hope." Then you depart 3 minutes later looking for napkins to literally wipe away the embarrassment of your droopy drawers.</div>
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But perhaps what struck me most about monsoon season, and this trip in general, is that sunny Mumbai had gone away for a few months. Everyday life patterns change and adapt to the perpetual rain. Clouds fill the sky most days, all day. The fabulous sunsets from the business lounge at the hotel were invisible (but the it-will-do Indian wine was always in sight!) I found myself jumping out of bed one morning when there was a trace of sunshine to welcome a morning run on Marine Drive. Quick! Get it before it's gone!</div>
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And on that note, they've just announced boarding for my flight. I must get that before it's gone, too. This was a good trip, but a hard one, if for no other reason than the many hours logged at the office and away from home. As seems to be the new habit, the hotel staff all asked when I'd be returning. It was a funny feeling as I thought aloud, "Um, whenever." Normally, I'm such a planner with these things but for whatever reason, I'll leave it up to someone or something else to decide when I head back to this crazy town. Monsooner or later!</div>
Catherinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04483372769461055922noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280740158083943032.post-72620875019838582532013-06-11T11:25:00.000-05:002014-01-07T10:53:01.601-06:00India: It's Different This Time Around<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It's palpably different this time around.<br />
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I'm here for a week, not six or seven. I'm the only one here from the Chicago office. Time in the hotel and visiting with friends here is minimal, because when I'm around, I'm typically on the phone with the US or pounding out emails.<br />
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The sun is gone and the clouds are here instead. Monsoon has arrived! (More on that in a separate post). <br />
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Little things are different, too, like no peanut butter to accompany the bananas at breakfast. Sliced bananas look so lonely without a protein spread! Apparently someone has a nut allergy around these parts.<br />
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Work days are legitimately two shifts, India for 9 hours and then Chicago for another 5 or 8. In fact, I'm killing time right now waiting for another conference call to start at 12:30 am local time.<br />
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"Itabeaboutabidnessmattah." That's in reference to a bad joke in our house and among close friends, which was started by Matt years ago. But it's a perfect way to describe this fast and furious trip.</div>
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I actually got kind of sad this afternoon and felt as though my interest in India might be waning. There has been no time to walk around, no time to get lost in the general melee, and no time to feel a part of it all. <br />
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But there have been a few moments of downtime here and there, like tonight's beer and Indian pizza. I don't know what I ate and yet I can tell you it was distinctively pizza-esque Indian food! After it all, we dodged the customary onslaught of traffic on Colaba Causeway to hail a cab.<br />
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And, praise Ganesha, the cabs are very much the same. Crazy green LED illumination is totally normal, right?<br />
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The peddlers on the street are still selling ridiculously oversized balloons. These guys can be found every day trolling around the Taj Palace Hotel and, as such, I haven't figured out their target audience. On one side you have tourists festooned with fancy cameras or shopping bags from the designer shops. On the other side you have mothers and toddlers begging those very same tourists for whatever cash is leftover. People have their hands full or their hands out but nobody has their hands on a balloon.</div>
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Yet perhaps best of all is that there was time on Saturday night to get out of the hotel and grab some drinks and dinner with two main characters from these India tales, Rohit and Brian. (Monsoon humidity and jet lag causes you to look much more intoxicated than you really are...)</div>
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We all put work away long enough to shut down a restaurant, persuade a bartender to serve us more well past last call (they bet me I couldn't prevail, and I did!), and then finish the night off with a cruise down Marine Drive at a speed best classified as reckless. Reckless driving in India? Okay, maybe things aren't that different.</div>
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Catherinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04483372769461055922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280740158083943032.post-33327828200318016562013-06-08T01:26:00.000-05:002014-01-07T10:53:01.592-06:00India: Up in the Air<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
There was a time when I made fun of frequent fliers, and therefore consultants - the most frequent of those fliers. The obsessive tallying of miles, the selection of certain hotel and car rental chains to maximize loyalty points, the totally obvious annoyance with the general flying public. Nowhere is this better demonstrated than in the movie <i>Up in the Air</i> and in the scene where George Clooney and Vera Farminga discuss the merits of miles and compare loyalty cards. My flight from Chicago to Frankfurt was very much of the same ilk.<br />
<br />
Let's start with pre-boarding. I raced to get to O'Hare three hours before departure so I could get settled in the United Club. There was a time when I used the lounge to, um, lounge. This time I had to set up shop and have a few conference calls before departure. So there I am, on my phone, sitting in front of my iPad to watch a join.me session, while typing emails on the laptop. Three screens and no shame for it. What happened to Vanity Fair magazines and a nice plate of individual slices of cheese and crackers by the two-pack?<br />
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Now it's time to board. I settle into my very deliberately-selected seat, 19E. Bulkhead row, middle seat of the middle section. Middle middle? The horrors of it all, especially according to Mr. 19D. Why would I pick middle middle at a bulkhead where you have no storage under the seat in front of you? Because this is a solid seat in the coach cabin, people. You get extra leg room and no one is walking over you to get out to the toilet. Bundle in a blanket and you're nicely insulated from the constant aisle activity. But this seemingly amateur mistake caused Mr. 19D to strike up conversation while boarding continued. I'll spare you the details other than to say we spent 35 minutes discussing the pros and cons of different seats on planes and when to use your upgrades. Answer? Bulkheads are good but not the ones by the toilets, upgrades are meant for flights only over 10 hours, and socks are a must in achieving comfort for both you and your seat mates.<br />
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The plane takes off and I have since shifted to the vacant 19F. You'd think the distance between Mr. 19D and me would shut down the conversation but no, it apparently opened the communication channels further. I don't know what it is about middle-aged men on the Chicago-Frankfurt 2:20 flight but lord, are they chatty. (My sample size is 2, so don't bet on my stats, but still.) The last time I did this flight I sat next to a guy that talked my ear off for 5 of our 8 hours in the air. We covered music preferences, his daughters applying to college, and how his wife gets to take advantage of his frequent flier status. Well, press "repeat" on this soundtrack because that's basically what happened this time, too.<br />
<br />
Over the course of 5 hours (again!), Mr. 19D proceeds to share the following with me:<br />
<br />
<ol style="text-align: left;">
<li>He's a professional sailboat racer and there's a much bigger presence for that in Europe, thus all the flying.</li>
<li>Despite his loyalty to United and the many miles he logs annually, he's disgruntled with how many people now have "premier" status, which makes it increasingly difficult to get free upgrades. Word. But, he advises that I continue with the Lufthansa flights because their in-flight perks are usually more free-flowing. I take note.</li>
<li>He's friends with Helmut Jahn the architect, which only came up after he asked my what I did. Two hours into the conversation.</li>
<li>He has a son named Trevor and Trevor recently came in second place in the state geography bee. Trevor lost to an Indian kid. Upon learning I was en route to India, Mr. 19D asks why Indians are so good at fill-in-the-blank bees. (See also: <a href="http://www.dnaindia.com/world/1841767/report-indian-american-wins-spelling-bee-for-sixth-straight-year" target="_blank">2013 Spelling Bee</a>) I'm no expert on Indian education but we did have an interesting discussion about how learning behaviors and the <a href="http://bschoolstudio.blogspot.in/2012/02/india-news-flash.html" target="_blank">overall approach to higher education</a> varies wildly among cultures.</li>
<li>He's married to Connie and Connie gets to take advantage of all his business class upgrades when they fly. Lest you think chivalry is dead, strike up a conversation with a man on the Chicago-Frankfurt flight and you will likely hear how they take care of their wives - at least while airborne.</li>
<li>Connie, Trevor, and Mr. 19D are building a home in Annapolis and it will be craftsmen style. Their architect is kooky and 19D doesn't understand why they spend so much time discussing how soffits can be detailed. You can be sure I took one for the architect team and spent a moment educating him on the importance of ceiling planes.</li>
<li>Mr. 19D is a member of the Million Miler Club and actually showed me his member card. He also knew exactly how many miles he needed to reach his lifetime flight goal. Seriously, y'all, I practically had this conversation word for word. But, the United Million Miler Club card is not carbon fibre or graphite; it's plastic.</li>
</ol>
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<a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0267812/?ref_=tt_trv_qu" style="color: #70579d; text-decoration: none;">Alex Goran</a>: What is that, carbon fibre?</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 0.3em; padding: 0px;">
<a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000123/?ref_=tt_trv_qu" style="color: #70579d; text-decoration: none;">Ryan Bingham</a>: Graphite.</div>
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<a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0267812/?ref_=tt_trv_qu" style="color: #70579d; text-decoration: none;">Alex Goran</a>: Oh, I love the weight.</div>
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<a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000123/?ref_=tt_trv_qu" style="color: #70579d; text-decoration: none;">Ryan Bingham</a>: I was pretty excited the day that bad boy came in.</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 0.3em; padding: 0px;">
<a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0267812/?ref_=tt_trv_qu" style="color: #70579d; text-decoration: none;">Alex Goran</a>: I'll say. I put up pretty pedestrian numbers. 60 thousand a year, domestic.</div>
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<a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000123/?ref_=tt_trv_qu" style="color: #70579d; text-decoration: none;">Ryan Bingham</a>: That's not bad.</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 0.3em; padding: 0px;">
<a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0267812/?ref_=tt_trv_qu" style="color: #70579d; text-decoration: none;">Alex Goran</a>: Don't patronize me. What's your total?</div>
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<a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000123/?ref_=tt_trv_qu" style="color: #70579d; text-decoration: none;">Ryan Bingham</a>: It's a personal question.</div>
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<a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0267812/?ref_=tt_trv_qu" style="color: #70579d; text-decoration: none;">Alex Goran</a>: Please.</div>
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<a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000123/?ref_=tt_trv_qu" style="color: #70579d; text-decoration: none;">Ryan Bingham</a>: And we hardly know each other.</div>
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<a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0267812/?ref_=tt_trv_qu" style="color: #70579d; text-decoration: none;">Alex Goran</a>: Come on, show some hubris. Come on, impress me. I bet it's huge.</div>
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<a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000123/?ref_=tt_trv_qu" style="color: #70579d; text-decoration: none;">Ryan Bingham</a>: You have no idea.</div>
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<a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0267812/?ref_=tt_trv_qu" style="color: #70579d; text-decoration: none;">Alex Goran</a>: How big? What is it, this big? This big?</div>
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<a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000123/?ref_=tt_trv_qu" style="color: #70579d; text-decoration: none;">Ryan Bingham</a>: I don't want to brag.</div>
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<a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0267812/?ref_=tt_trv_qu" style="color: #70579d; text-decoration: none;">Alex Goran</a>: Oh, come on! Come on.</div>
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<a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000123/?ref_=tt_trv_qu" style="color: #70579d; text-decoration: none;">Ryan Bingham</a>: Let's just say I have a number in mind and I haven't hit it yet.</div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Ok, anyway, conversation goes on for the majority of the flight and while it passes the time, it sure doesn't help me in the sleep department. I manage to step away to use the restroom and upon returning I seize the opportunity to don an eye mask and ear plugs to grab a nap. We eventually land, depart, and bid each <span style="font-family: inherit;">other safe travels.</span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> Despite how much I now know about this guy, I never learned his name. What I did learn, though, is that he's right about Lufthansa and its perks. While boarding for Frankfurt-Mumbai, the automatic boarding pass scanner at the gate read my pass and paused, then spit out a little ticket telling me I had been upgraded to business class. After having traveled through three cities in 24 hours and sleeping no more than 4 hours all the while, I swear, it felt like I just won big in Vegas. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Airline loyalty is a slippery slope, indeed. All it takes is one well-timed perk to suck you in for another year of indentured servitude.</span></div>
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Catherinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04483372769461055922noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280740158083943032.post-34488914421211266572013-06-08T00:37:00.003-05:002013-06-08T00:37:48.042-05:00India: Round Four<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Shortly after returning from India in December, life took a dramatic turn in the travel department. I headed down to North Carolina for Christmas and, while doing some holiday shopping, picked up this make-up kit for my sister and myself. Who knew eye shadow could also foreshadow? From early December through late March, I had the distinct honor of finding myself at O'Hare airport every. single. week. New destination? Columbus, Ohio. Not quite the same as Mumbai but it sure can feel like it takes just as long to get there given the repeated flight delays the little toy planes have each time we head out. <br />
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Anyway, thus the radio silence until now. Not that anything has slowed down. In fact, I'd say it's gotten even faster. Which brings me to current state: traveling to Mumbai for a one week trip to work with my team here on a project being run out of Chicago and built in Columbus. Hello, multi-national teamwork!<br />
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For this go-around on the blog, I think I'll just try and do daily summaries of whatever crosses my path. I wasn't going to bother keeping up with it, given the short duration, but I will admit it's been fun to revisit some of the posts every now and then. So, let's do this thing.</div>
Catherinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04483372769461055922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280740158083943032.post-56509888487498881902012-12-09T08:32:00.001-06:002013-02-20T14:19:04.459-06:00India: At the Starbucks, or the Starbucks, or the Starbucks, or the Starbucks<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Anyone get that reference in the post title? If not, catch up <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4T1RMuoQnKo" target="_blank">here</a>. While Mumbai, and all of India, for that matter, is a long way from being like Arlington, Starbucks has arrived and is multiplying across town.</div>
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I'm still mildly disappointed in myself for seeking out this ubiquitous American enterprise. See, on my first trip here I had to bitterly accept that India is a tea, not coffee, nation. On the second trip, my willingness to drink everything from weak Americanos to Nescafe all for the caffeine hit was a badge of honor. I also kind of enjoyed the fact that India was one of the last corners of the Earth to not have green mermaids swimming about everywhere. That all changed when Starbucks and Tata finally came to an agreement a few months ago. More on Tata's ubiquity later; it makes Starbucks look like your local mom-and-pop shop.</div>
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Anyway, Matt's hankering for better-than-passable coffee led us to Starbucks in <a href="http://www.dnaindia.com/money/report_at-horniman-circle-opener-starbucks-sets-premium-tone_1754291" target="_blank">Horniman </a>Circle. This place is absolutely huge and I'll admit it was also a fair amount of curiosity that drew us in. Like McDonald's french fries, would Starbucks coffee taste the same the world around? Answer: yes. But how you get that coffee is a much different experience. Let's review.</div>
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Chances are most of you get your coffee hit in less than 60 seconds' time. Your cup is tattooed with your preferred brew and you have probably mastered putting your credit card away with one hand as you dump cream and sugar in your drink with the other. None of this is holds in India.</div>
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Matt and I placed orders for short and grande brewed coffees. Simple order, yes? It required filling out a form. I'm not kidding. India has proven itself to be the king of "Sign here, press hard, third copy's yours" paperwork, where everything is handwritten and done in triplicate. Apparently, even Starbucks, the company that pioneered paperwork on paper cups, can't avoid this kind of documentation. </div>
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Here, short has replaced tall and porcelain mugs are the go-tos instead of paper cups. We know this<br />
because one of the eight people behind this counter (there were two other stations inside) whispered to the barista taking our orders, "They're Americans, they probably want paper." Only Matt heard this and I don't know if he interjected but we ended up with porcelain mugs anyway. </div>
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After you get your form from Barista #1, step over four paces and give it to the cashier, Barista #2. Pay. Then go somewhere else to wait. Your drip coffee will be brought to you in "just two minutes."</div>
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Some time later, your coffee shows up. Invariably, you start looking for the cream and sugar stand. Good luck finding it! After wandering about I was intercepted by another barista from one of the other coffee bars asking if I would like milk for my coffee. </div>
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-Yes, indeed I would. </div>
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- Hot. Let's kill off anything questionable. </div>
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Some time later, your hot milk shows up. You might be looking for a stir stick or something but recall that the cream and sugar stand, which also holds stir sticks, doesn't exist. May as well just have a seat and hope a gentle swirling of your cup does the trick. </div>
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So, what's the verdict? After one or two quick hits, I mean sips, Matt appears sated. And, for today's nerdy term, let's throw out Purchasing Power Parity. In a land where most food is comparatively cheap and alcohol is horrifyingly expensive (see also: Yellow Tail wine at $36 a bottle), a 12 oz. cup of Starbucks coffee will set you back Rs. 95, or roughly $1.74. </div>
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Finally, I'll share a picture of the hand painted Starbucks logo on the shop window. This caught my eye because I've noticed that in India, more often than not, signage is hand painted and hand lettered. Peel-and-stick vinyl graphics aren't huge here for reasons unknown to me. Might be the whole labor situation: people are still cheaper than automated manufacturing. In any case, even Starbucks went local on this account. The picture doesn't do it justice, but the craftsmanship on the giant logo was more beautiful than the other pseudo-artwork throughout the shop!</div>
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Catherinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04483372769461055922noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280740158083943032.post-53906978664499194912012-12-06T05:00:00.000-06:002012-12-06T05:00:09.206-06:00India: Weekday Outing - Elephanta Island<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Are you all ready for this shake-up? A weekDAY outing instead of a weekEND outing. I know, crazy, but that's what happens when you go on vacation, apparently. You can do stuff during the week!</div>
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Thursday morning brought me right back into my Mumbai routine: morning run along Marine Drive, breakfast at Frangipani, then <a href="http://bschoolstudio.blogspot.in/2012/04/india-lets-pack-for-aweekend-outing.html">pack up the adult diaper bag</a> and head out for a day of sightseeing/getting lost in the city. The fun addition this go around was of getting to do this with someone else, save for the running on Marine Drive. Matt welcomed the opportunity to sleep more while I tested how many faces I recognized in saris and tennis shoes. Answer? A surprisingly high amount!</div>
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Our destination du jour was Elephanta Island, which you reach by taking any number of rickety old wooden boats on a ride 45 minutes across the bay. I'd tell you about the island's history but alas, we did not hire a "tour guide" nor did we buy a "guide book" while there. And yes, those quotation marks are to be read in a mocking tone. Instead, we came, we saw, then Matt Wikipedia-ed it. Good enough for who it's for.</div>
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As we embarked on our trip, Matt delivered one of the better lines of the trip:</div>
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<i>Oh nice, a wooden hull boat. It would take one big rock to smash this thing in and capsize us. Of course, the good news is there would be a rock for all of us to stand on.</i></div>
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Sound and optimistic logic, indeed.</div>
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We made it across the bay without running into any rocks. Upon reaching the island, you walk alongside tons of locals selling all sorts of goodies and trinkets. Spiced pickles appeared to be the favored treat and a cow, goat, monkey, rooster, or stray dog will gladly take your leftovers. You're also kindly asked to keep your elephanta clean. This is humorous for a couple of reasons, not the least of which is the trash dump located within sight of the requesting signage. And then there's just something funny about being asked to keep your elephanta clean, no? </div>
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At the end of the pier, you reach the equivalent of an outdoor strip mall perched along both sides of a massive set of stairs that one must climb to get to the ticketing office. Perhaps you'll be so delighted by the trinkets that you don't even make it to the apex? Whatever floats your wooden hull boat, I guess.</div>
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We climbed and climbed and then huffed and puffed before buying tickets. That transaction entailed giving one guy on the side of a shack our money and in return, he gave us paper tickets. Next, we turned 90 degrees, walked 5 paces, and gave said paper tickets to another guy. He took them, passed them to guy number three, and guy number three nodded us through the gate while he passed the paper back to guy number one. Ahh, the whole toll booth staffing strategy appears to be consistent throughout this nation.</div>
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Once through the gate, you are free to walk about the paths and explore five caves in various stages of restoration (read: recreation through modern-day concrete and re-bar). </div>
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Even if authenticity wasn't the wow factor, the scale of some of the caves certainly gave you pause. While we enjoyed wandering through the caves, we found ourselves more interested in yet another hike up a hillside to two old canons. I'd share a picture of the view but Mumbai smog plus a modest camera lens didn't amount to much.<br />
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Now, before we leave the island, note that I mentioned monkeys at the beginning of this tale. Elephanta is known for its hordes of monkeys and they were everywhere. So much so, in fact, that signs warned visitors to beware of them! We did see a few aggressive ones go after tourists' lunches. Given my track record with monkeys and cameras, you'd think that I'd finally capitalize on the chance to get a monkey photo without being harassed. I guess I do better under pressure because the below image is all I got. Weak. I promise you there are monkeys in the shot.</div>
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After a full day of hiking and boating, we returned to South Mumbai and went to The Strand for rooftop beer and snacks. Under a full moon and with a raucous wedding band providing the soundtrack, you can't ask for a better way to end the night!<br />
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Catherinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04483372769461055922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280740158083943032.post-59461820425345029962012-12-04T22:32:00.000-06:002012-12-04T22:32:13.375-06:00India: A Whole Lotta Culture<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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By Tuesday morning it was time to wrap up our sightseeing, say goodbye to Anil, and head south to Pune for Chinmay's wedding before ultimately making it to Mumbai. Candidly, I was also ready to stop feeling like a chauffeured tourist and wanted to blur into the background (as best one can when still clearly a foreigner). Heading out of Jaipur airport gave us the first opportunity of the trip to just run with things.</div>
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No need to fully <a href="http://bschoolstudio.blogspot.in/2012/01/india-domestic-airports.html">retell the domestic flying experience</a> but I will say that the security process did not fail to baffle us. Thank goodness we had a three hour layover in Ahmedabad because you must fully exit the airport, walk outside, come back inside, go through security, and then come back upstairs only to return to the gate that you literally just walked out of from the incoming plane. No joke. Oh, and remember my amusement at Indigo's in-flight magazine? I have been vindicated, friends, because as soon as the flight attendant announced its name on the PA system, Matt turned to me and said, "Wait, what's the name? 'Hello 6E'? Like, 'Hello, sexy?'" Bwahahahahahaha! Yes! <a href="http://bschoolstudio.blogspot.in/2012/01/india-domestic-airlines.html"> I'm not the only one who cracks up at this</a>!</div>
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Amusement aside, we arrived in Pune exactly on time and all checked baggage was in tact. Serious victory! A car from the hotel picked us up and off we went. I had never been to Pune before and it's not exactly a touristy town, lovely as it may be. Before dinner, Matt and I went out wandering around and completely stuck out from the crowd. Whereas in Mumbai and Delhi you get a fair amount of Westerners roaming about for work or holiday, that didn't appear to be the case in Pune. We had a great time partaking in one of my favorite games in India: let's see if we can get lost. After an hour or so of wandering aimlessly we hailed a tuk-tuk for the short ride back to the hotel.</div>
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Kids, these things are total deathtraps and yet so much fun. Remember all the very cool things we had just seen in the North? Well, that's all fine and good but Matt's ongoing requests to commandeer a tuk-tuk for future transportation needs clearly exposed this as the highlight of his trip so far. <br />
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Wednesday morning we awoke to Pune commuters racing to the trains. A Central Railway station was directly across from our hotel and provided an active play outside our window.<br />
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Following breakfast, it was time to assemble ourselves for the wedding. And I do mean "assemble." Matt had a kurta, pyjamas, and scarf to don while I had a sari that needed professional draping. No amount of YouTubing was going to get all that fabric where it needed to be so I enlisted the help of a duty manager named Elizabeth. Twenty minutes and four discreetly placed safety pins later, we were ready to roll. Ta da!<br />
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As soon as we arrived at the wedding Chinmay's dad greeted us at the front of the wedding hall and pulled us inside. Within moments, Matt was in a corner of the room having his head wrapped up in a traditional hat (if you call it that?) that all the men on the groom's side wore. The bride's side wore a similar confection but in different colors and one of Chinmay's uncles explained to us that the hats were analogous to wearing boutonnieres in Western weddings. Do I need to declare that Matt loved his hat or does the huge grin give it away?<br />
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As for the wedding itself, it was a spectacle. Stimulation overload, like India in general. Music's blaring non-stop, flowers are hanging throughout the space, spices from lunch are wafting through the air, color is exploding on the floor in sand art and in the hundreds of saris swishing about. <br />
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I wish I could tell you about everything that was happening and what it all meant but Matt and I were generally lost on that front. Another uncle graciously explained the rituals and the traditions as they took place but there was so much happening at once and so many people buzzing about we only captured about a quarter of what he told us. But here again, even though we stuck out wildly (as demonstrated by the handfuls of other guests covertly or not-so-covertly taking pictures of us), we also felt warmly welcomed and wholly included in the day's events. <br />
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While Kirti and Chinmay participated in the rituals, guests hovered around the altar/stage and snapped endless photos while talking and laughing. People were dressed in their finery or in jeans - it didn't seem to matter! Later on I decided that in the US, we seem to convey a wedding's importance through its formality: processionals with classical (and sometimes somber sounding) music, no talking or moving around during the ceremony, everyone in their fancy clothes, prescribed seating arrangements at dinner, and on and on. Throw all that out the window in India but don't let the revelry fool you into thinking this isn't a serious affair.<br />
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The wedding and receiving line/picture taking extravaganza concluded in the early afternoon and shortly thereafter, Matt and I hopped in a car and embarked on the four hour drive to Mumbai. Along the way we talked about all that we had just seen and experienced, marveling at marriage in India. Chinmay and Kirti had a love marriage as opposed to the more common, but dwindling, arranged marriage. I always feel strange labeling one person's marriage as "love" versus "arranged," as if to say the latter is void of the former's emotions, but this is common parlance here. Anil talked to us about marriage after he learned we were attending a wedding. To him, arranged marriages are a lottery and if you win, it's okay. But if you don't win, it's also okay. Matt politely chuckled at this statement and while I also smiled, I was more taken by the idea that in India, you are encouraged to apply this line of thinking to pretty much everything: either way, in the end, it's okay.<br />
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By the way, Anil never told us if he had won the lottery in his arranged marriage and we weren't about to ask.</div>
Catherinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04483372769461055922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280740158083943032.post-42242337807017407762012-12-02T20:00:00.000-06:002012-12-02T20:00:05.042-06:00India: Jaipur in Pictures<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
We're going to keep rolling with the pictures rather than the words because Jaipur was equally, but differently, as stunning as what we saw in Agra. Some quick notes before we get to those, though. <br />
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Jaipur is in the neighboring state of Rajasthan and is about another 5 hour car ride from Agra. It is often called the Pink City (you'll see why below) and if I were to compare it to another city, it reminds me of St. Petersburg, Russia: Imperial architecture in ice cream colors, a vibrant culture, and is fairly easily to navigate due to urban planning foresight. We reached the city Sunday evening, checked into our hotel, and passed out. Monday morning we planned to meet Anil at 9 am and then headed out for a handful of sites: Amber Fort, City Palace, Jai Mahal, and some shops. Handicrafts are big in Jaipur and hand-knotted carpets, jewelry, and textiles rule the city. We really enjoyed our time in Jaipur and were glad we gave that city the biggest chunk of our time while in the north.<br />
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To the pictures!<br />
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<i>Oh, you know, just a camel on the side of the road.</i></div>
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<i>School kids on a field trip to Amber Fort.</i></div>
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<i>Amber Fort.</i></div>
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<i>You can walk to the top...</i></div>
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...<i>or ride an elephant!</i></div>
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<i>The line for elephants was crazy long so we walked - and got just as close to the animals as the riders!</i></div>
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<i>City of Amber viewed from the fort.</i></div>
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<i>Entry court, elephant valet in background.</i></div>
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<i>Elephants are kind of a big deal in this country. Note the elephant tusk detail in the column corbel.</i></div>
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<i>Palace gardens.</i></div>
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<i>Elephant traffic jam. Elephants don't stay in their lanes in India, either.</i></div>
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<i>Walls of the "Pleasure Palace" room. An early form of air-conditioning was designed in this space using evaporative cooling.</i></div>
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<i>Across the way, a hall made of millions of mirror fragments.</i></div>
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<i>Jali</i></div>
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<i>Jai Mahal. You can look but not touch.</i></div>
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<i>Handknotting a rug. Estimated date of completion? June 2013.</i></div>
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<i>Wool yarn hung above and pulled as needed. </i></div>
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<i>Jaipur city and one of the many gates surrounding it.</i></div>
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<i>Inside the City Palace.</i></div>
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<i>More painted spaces inside City Palace.</i></div>
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<i> Architecture nerd term of the day: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Enfilade_(architecture)">enfilade.</a></i></div>
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<i>As Matt pointed out, even 21st century royalty needs DirecTV.</i></div>
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*******<br />IF YOU GO: We stayed at the ITC Rajputana hotel and it was excellent. The audio guides at the major monuments are more than satisfactory so stick with those over the live versions. We spent over 3 hours exploring Amber Fort on our own and didn't feel slighted in the least. </div>
Catherinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04483372769461055922noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280740158083943032.post-66605058249764528912012-12-02T05:00:00.000-06:002012-12-02T05:00:02.044-06:00India: Agra in Pictures<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Sunday afternoon, following hours in the car and a monkey incident, we reached Agra, home of the Taj Mahal. In short, it is as magnificent as you have been led to believe. Maybe more so. I love when architecture has the power to elicit a common response and you would be hard-pressed to find someone at the Taj Mahal who didn't utter "Wow" at least once. And, while you are free to walk through the palace itself as we did, Matt and I decided it is most impressive upon first glance through the entry gate.<br />
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I won't bog down this post with too much text because millions of others have written about the place more descriptively and eloquently than I will. Millions have also taken better pictures so file these under "Yes, we were there!" rather than "National Geographic contenders."<br />
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<i>Approaching the entry gate</i></div>
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<i>Looking through the gate, Taj Mahal beyond</i></div>
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<i>Behold!</i></div>
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<i>A picture of all the people taking pictures.</i></div>
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<i>Fun fact: Indian nationals now account for 75% of visitors and foreigners are 25%. 10 years ago, this was the opposite.</i></div>
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<i>Marble inlay.</i></div>
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<i>Possibly the worst "We were there!" photo ever, courtesy of our tour guide. He should stick to words instead of pictures. :)</i></div>
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IF YOU GO: You could probably plan to spend a full day and night in Agra seeing some of the other monuments but you can also get in and get out in a day. We weren't going to get a tour guide because so many of them are using the term "guide" liberally. But, Anil set us up with someone who provided just enough info as to make it a worthwhile partnership for an hour.</div>
Catherinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04483372769461055922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280740158083943032.post-78196646448644352932012-12-01T05:14:00.000-06:002012-12-01T11:36:58.553-06:00India: Life is a Highway<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Our first full day in India was slated to be an exhausting one but what better way to fight jet-lag than by spending 11+ hours in a car, riding along bumpy roads that don't really allow you to fall asleep too early in the day? </div>
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In order to get around northern India, I did some googling a few weeks ago for information on hired car services. One of Matt's coworkers, who happens to be Indian, asked if we were renting a car on our trip. When he said, "yes," apparently she took this to mean we were insane enough to rent a car that <i>we </i>would then drive. No chance. So to clarify, I booked a driver through a guy I found on a forum thread about Indian hired drivers on lonelyplanet.com. How's that for a proverbial stab in the dark?</div>
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After some email negotiation (haggling doesn't stop with the street vendors or cab drivers), I had arranged for a three day driver to pick us up in Delhi, drive to Agra so we could see the Taj Mahal, then continue on in the same day to Jaipur. In a place where the roads are covered in a menagerie more varied than your standard American zoo, covering 400 km in a day was a fairly aggressive goal. But we lived to tell the tale. </div>
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Anil, our driver, met us at the hotel at 6 am sharp, just as planned. I let out a small sigh of relief, as being stranded would not have been a good start to vacation. Shortly into our drive Anil mentioned that one needs to have three things when driving in India:</div>
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1. Good brakes</div>
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2. Good horn</div>
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3. Good luck</div>
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How's that for a word of encouragement from some total internet stranger who now holds your safety and destination in his hands? Anil was actually a wonderful driver who always met us when and where he said he would, was incredibly pleasant, and made sure we didn't starve along the way.</div>
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Ok, so we're on the road to Agra for the next 5 hours and regardless of how tired you are, there is so much happening right outside your window that it's hard to shut your eyes. Driving through the rural parts of India was a new experience for both Matt and me and, at the risk of sounding insensitive, the best way I know how to describe the roadside activity is it is as if a natural history museum diorama has sprung to life before your eyes (dust and all). If you think about it, when you travel the interstate in the US, you don't see people washing clothes, cutting wood, hand-smooshing cow patties (yes), or kids running around playing. Heck, you don't really see people except for those in the cars passing by you. Such is not the case in Uttar Pradesh, Agra's state. If you do travel through the Golden Triangle, know that this is one place where the journey is just as fascinating as the destination.</div>
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By now you're probably saying, yeah great, where are the pictures? Apologies, but I think I was so captivated by "what's coming next?!" that I failed to get any photos along the way. Well, except one. </div>
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Oh yes, that is a monkey hanging out on Matt's window. <br />
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When we drove over the state line between Haryana and Uttar Pradesh, Anil had to leave the car to go pay taxes of some sort. Not two seconds later this little guy jumped up on the car window and gave us a good show. Out came the iPhone. <br />
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Click. <br />
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Then pounding on the windows.<br />
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Dammit.<br />
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For the next five minutes or so, Matt and I were treated to two very large men with very big hands pounding on the windows and demanding money for the monkey photo. For a brief moment it was funny and then both of us were covertly locking car doors with our toes while eagerly scanning the horizon for Anil. As it turns out, it's a lot easier to <a href="http://bschoolstudio.blogspot.in/2012/02/india-bits-pieces.html">evade a monkey woman</a> on the street in Mumbai than it is to hide from two dudes in the most crime-ridden state of India. <br />
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While we're waiting for these frightening minutes to play out, I take the time to teach Matt an important lesson in India: if you don't like it, ignore it fully rather than say "no." No is acknowledgment and that's almost worse than saying "yes." So, we sat and stared straight ahead. I think we both felt like two bugs under a glass at the hands of a nap-deprived toddler. At least I know I did.<br />
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Like I said earlier, Anil proved himself to be a reliable fellow and he soon returned. The monkey men actually got bored with us and left before Anil came back to claim us but nonetheless, we were thrilled to see him. Just before Anil opened his car door, Matt turns to me and says, "Were you trying to give me the full India experience? Because you should know better when it comes to monkey pictures." And he's right, I should. But this is still a pretty awesome vacation picture, no?<br />
<br />
********<br />
IF YOU GO: The driver service we used was www.indiaprivatedriver.com and Bunty is the owner. As mentioned above, our driver was Anil and we highly recommend his services.</div>
Catherinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04483372769461055922noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280740158083943032.post-80090401812675229542012-11-29T06:30:00.001-06:002012-11-29T06:31:26.499-06:00India: First Impressions<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It has been a whirlwind series of days, y'all. Thanksgiving leftovers were still warm in the fridge by the time we started packing our things in Virginia and headed out for the airport on our journey over to India.<br />
<br />
<i>Sidenote: I should probably give a quick history on the genesis of this trip. The project that brought me here initially has gone on hold for "just two minutes." A return for work seemed less and less likely but that also meant Matt probably wouldn't get to travel here, which was a promise I had made to him back in January. Then, there was another promise I made when I returned home in May, which was to come back to India in November for Chinmay's wedding, regardless of work assignments. Hey, I keep my promises, so here we are! Being a full-on tourist and the queen of logistics has been a totally new experience and I'll share some lessons learned as we go, in case any of you out there find yourselves visiting India. Now, back to our tale.</i><br />
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Mercifully, the flight over was on time and probably as painless as it could be when you're camping in 4.5 square feet of real estate for 15 hours. We touched down in Delhi around 9 pm on Saturday evening and within minutes of taxiing, eau de India permeated the cabin. Talk about smoke gets in your eyes. Blog veterans know we've discussed <a href="http://bschoolstudio.blogspot.in/2012/01/india-on-architecture-place-and-culture.html">Delhi's atmosphere</a> but time and distance got the better of me; the smoke this go-around seems worse than I recall.<br />
<br />
Though I had warned Matt that we were spending our first night in a rather polluted city, I don't think he quite grasped what I was saying until we exited the airport and he looked around, only to remark, "<i>That's</i> the air?" Roughly translated, he thought the short distance he could see was some part of the airport building itself but no, it was the wall of Delhi smog.<br />
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We hopped in a taxi and soon were<a href="http://bschoolstudio.blogspot.in/2012/02/india-weekend-outing-lets-go-for-drive.html"> riding along the traffic lanes</a>, not between them, of course. Matt's next comment, "Um, okay..." as he reached for the handle on the roof of the car, the one that typically holds your dry cleaning and not your white-knuckled man hands. Then he continues, "This is like Pac-Man!" as our taxi swallowed up dashes on the lane markings.<br />
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Our hotel was located in New Delhi proper in a section called Connaught Circus. Very British sounding and, when shrouded in the dark of night and dust, it kind of looked like London. But not for long. Insert Matt observation #3: "If this is what <i>New </i>Delhi looks like, what is even left of <i> old</i> Delhi?" Touche.<br />
<br />
This was a question I could not answer. To be fair, I haven't given Delhi, new or old, much of a chance. But first impressions are a tough thing to abandon and Delhi hasn't wooed me, once, twice, or now thrice. We had just a few days before the wedding and that meant one of our city visits in <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Golden_Triangle_(India)">The Golden Triangle</a> had to be short so I nominated Delhi to take one for the team. Matt didn't feel slighted as we pulled away from our hotel the next morning at 6 am. The sun was just coming up but it illuminated enough for both of us to say, "On to Agra!"<br />
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Catherinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04483372769461055922noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280740158083943032.post-60939647542579514742012-11-23T15:26:00.000-06:002012-11-29T06:31:38.883-06:00India: Third time's a charm (we hope!)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Greetings from Norfolk airport! Please forgive the typos surely coming your way as I knock this out on my phone.<br />
<br />
Happy Thanksgiving, one day late. You know, it was right after another major holiday when I scribed one of these "here we go again" posts. Been a very busy summer and fall which is why it's been radio silence in these parts. With all that work, though, it's time for some fun. Matt and I are off to the sub-continent and this time it's vacation! More specifically, it's the "bucket list of India" trip.<br />
<br />
Major items on the agenda include:<br />
- seeing the Taj Mahal<br />
- touring a fort in Jaipur, and hopefully with the assistance of an elephant<br />
- finally riding a tuk tuk (auto rickshaw) to continue rounding out my portfolio of transportation modes<br />
- attending a friend's wedding<br />
- which also means donning a sari (!!!)<br />
- exploring some caves off of Mumbai's coast<br />
- watching Matt take in all that is India<br />
<br />
So friends, for those of you who come (came?) here for the travel posts more so than the sewing posts, today and the next two weeks are your days. But first, 15 hours in coach. Pass the wine, will you?</div>
Catherinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04483372769461055922noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280740158083943032.post-747637879795861162012-07-16T11:35:00.000-05:002012-07-16T11:35:33.507-05:00Anyone out there?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Greetings!</div>
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Wow, it’s been awhile, hasn’t it? Almost 7 weeks, I think. Matt pointed out to me that this is the
longest continuous stretch I’ve been home in 2012 so far. Kind
of a bizarre thought.</div>
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During the radio silence a few of you have sent some emails
my way to say “hi” or to see if I was still alive. Thanks!
It’s so nice to have a fan club, however miniscule it may be. I thought I’d hop on here to provide a brief
update on things and hopefully get myself back into blogging form. So, in loose chronological order, here’s what’s
been shaking on this end:</div>
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<ol style="text-align: left;">
<li><span style="background-color: white;">As
soon as the plane wheels touched down on US soil I was gearing up for a weekend
in Virginia to attend Matt’s ten year college reunion.</span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><span style="background-color: white;">My jet lag was mercifully in control pretty
quickly and it was a fantastic few days in one of our favorite places.</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white;">The following weekend, I ran and completed the half marathon.</span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><span style="background-color: white;">And, I beat my target pace.</span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><span style="background-color: white;">Hooray!</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white;">In our “Summer To-Do List,” we’ve checked off a Cubs’ game, an outdoor
concert at Ravinia, fireworks on the beach, hours of dogs and Frisbees on the
beach, and lots of dinners/drinks with friends of all sorts.</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white;">Work’s been all over the place project-wise but geographically in Chicago
for now.</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white;">On a related note, should you be missing stories of India, may I direct
your attention to<a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2012/07/08/fashion/forgoing-a-shortcut-on-the-path-to-happiness-modern-love-not-enough-to-give-modern-love.html?_r=1&pagewanted=all"> this story</a> from last weekend’s NY Times?</span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><span style="background-color: white;">It’s a bit softer than the tales you normally
find here but it’s an enjoyable read.</span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><span style="background-color: white;">“...that
patch of idiosyncratic wonder, Mumbai,” is one of the best ways I’ve heard the
city described so far.</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white;">On a separate note, should you be missing stories of sewing, may I ask
that you come back in a few days?</span><span style="background-color: white;">
</span><span style="background-color: white;">Yes!</span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><span style="background-color: white;">That’s right, there’s been
some sewing going on lately and I’ve got stuff to share.</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white;">However,
patience is needed because right now the big thing on my radar is another
architect registration exam.</span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><span style="background-color: white;">I’ve been
trying to plow through these as long as I’m home; tomorrow will be the second
of four I hope to knock out before getting on a plane again.</span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><span style="background-color: white;">Where’s a Ganesha when I need one?</span></li>
</ol>
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Let’s chat again soon.</div>
</div>Catherinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04483372769461055922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280740158083943032.post-63772689018516812042012-05-30T07:39:00.000-05:002012-05-30T07:58:52.251-05:00India: Somebody get me a Walkman...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
...because I have an old Boyz II Men cassette tape that needs to be played. I'm thinking, "It's So Hard to Say Goodbye to Yesterday," is most appropriate.<br />
<br />
Maybe not. That would swing things on the "sap" pendulum way too far. <br />
<br />
But seriously, as I type from the confines of the United Club at Newark Airport, I will confess that leaving Mumbai this time around was hard. Really hard. I cried no fewer than five times on my last day in Mumbai and one of those teary moments came while I was running on Marine Drive. Crying while running! Who does that? Thank goodness I was sweating enough for all that saltwater to blend together and not give me away. :)<br />
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Forgive the stream of consciousness that is about to unfold but I get the sense that you guys like hearing both the good and bad, the agony and the ecstasy of business travel, so I'll stay true to that.<br />
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I didn't want to go on this trip. I tried to get out of it up until the very last minute. The morning I left, I took my first architect registration exam. Do you realize what that meant? It meant I would rather sit through a standardized exam in a windowless room if it allowed me to (mentally) postpone my departure to India. <br />
<br />
Then I got to Mumbai and saw some familiar faces. I still wasn't jazzed about being there because I was fully preparing myself for seven weeks of just trying to get by, doing my thing, and doing it all by myself. I knew it could be a very lonely, though fulfilling, seven weeks.<br />
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In what would later prove to be some ironic foreshadowing, recall that I wrote in a couple of early posts that I am slow to warm up to people. That hasn't changed. For some reason, though, I gave in on this trip. I decided to let go and warm up. I gave in at the hotel, I gave in at work, I gave in everywhere. And it was so, so fun.<br />
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What wasn't fun was saying goodbye. It's tough to say goodbye to people, even at the basic level of displaying common courtesy, right? Nobody wants to be on the receiving end of a curt, "Peace out!" so you best put some genuine emotion into your departure. But I've found it was really difficult this time around because there were many competing emotions. Should I say goodbye to India for good, since I don't know if/when I'll return? I need closure on things and there was no closure to be had, anywhere, dammit! Why am I so sad about leaving India when leaving means returning home to my real life? Wait, what is my real life at this point? If I recognize that I've changed in some ways does that mean others will not recognize me because of said changes?<br />
<br />
(I told you, stream of consciousness.)<br />
<br />
All this erosion of barriers has me feeling vulnerable in ways I tend to shy away from. It's a paradoxical state of mind when you spend your day on stage, exuding confidence and autonomy to lead your team, only to then have to ask for help when it comes time to do something as simple as feed yourself. Eventually this dual-existence will catch up with you.<br />
<br />
Just to give you an idea of how this caught up with me, I went to bid adieu to Brian, a restaurant manager who crafted my special menu. I told him, "Thanks for taking such good care of me," to which he replied, "Thanks for letting us take care of you." Kids, I lost it. A bawling mess of tears and suitcases right in the Trident lobby. You've probably discerned from many of my posts that India has been tough on independent me because I don't naturally "let" people take care of me. Yet Brian was right; I had let them take care of me and am so grateful for it, exposed nerves and all.<br />
<br />
This is the good, bad, and ugly of leaving your spouse, family, home, and office behind in pursuit of new experiences that will hopefully pay off in the end, not only for you but for all those other people left in your wake.<br />
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The question of the day yesterday was, "So, when will you return?" There is no answer to that question as of yet. So, in classic Indian fashion, we'll pick up on this story again, "in just two minutes." Until then!</div>Catherinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04483372769461055922noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280740158083943032.post-80132642454534396682012-05-29T22:00:00.000-05:002012-05-29T22:00:02.905-05:00India: Cause and Effect<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I got promoted a couple of weeks ago, so this happened.<br />
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For those wondering, yes, I led the effort. Spreading American culture, one conference table at a time.</div>Catherinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04483372769461055922noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280740158083943032.post-61063352192679371272012-05-29T00:48:00.000-05:002012-05-29T01:03:58.100-05:00India: Let's pack...to stay connected<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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If this post were a Sesame Street episode, it would be
brought to you by the letters H and P and the number 12. And, after seven weeks of living abroad, I’ve
determined that neither the letters nor the number are the ideal sponsors. To make the magic seen on this blog I need a
whole lotta gadgets. Ok, fine, I need a
lot of gadgets for work and daily living, too.
My dependency on them is a little surprising; I’ve never been a gadget
person! But my long run on Sunday
morning just about killed my trusty iPod and that’s got me thinking about
replacing the entire set of techie toys below with the full Apple suite when I
return home. Having every item “talk” to
one another? Remarkable! So, speaking of sponsors, anyone feeling
generous?<br />
<span style="font-family: Wingdings;"><br /></span><br />
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<ol>
<li>HP laptop. Work
issued and not really adored. This thing
is big, bulky, weighs a ton, and is not at all easy to juggle when running
through foreign airports. I’ve never
given much thought to laptop size until now but to illustrate how bad this one
is, it is tearing the straps off my six week-old bag.</li>
<li>Mini mouse. Not the
Disney kind.</li>
<li>Tata Photon Stick.
This is quite possibly my least favorite item in the bunch. Hotel internet is exorbitantly priced so we
use dial up – yes, dial up – internet sticks to connect anywhere outside of
work. 1998 called and it wants its
connection speed back.</li>
<li>Plug adapters. I have
a small stash of these but find that I rarely need to use them. Most places have universal outlets that
handle US plugs just fine, even if there is a sizeable spark each time I go to
use them.</li>
<li>iPod Nano, first generation.
Oh, iPod, how you’ve seen me through so much. Long runs, slow weekends, noisy flights,
open-air office conversations. I really
don’t know how I lived without you.</li>
<li>Blackberry Curve. Oh,
Blackberry, I do know how I live without you and it’s because you take too many
steps to do any one simple task. This
archaic item has me seriously contemplating a proper international cell phone
plan at my own expense just to avoid the hassle. Most people do nothing but SMS/text here so
it’s not like I’d need a lot of voice minutes anyway. (Sidebar: SMSing here is taken as seriously
as Americans take email, meaning, if you commit to something in SMS it’s about
as good as blood on paper. This has
taken some getting used to because I’m not really one to conduct business via
text message. And, don’t get me started
on the degeneration of proper communication thanks to emoticons – from grown
adults! I’ve fallen so far into the
SMSing culture that I’m ashamed to say smiley faces have weaseled their way
into my texted parlance. Oh, the shame
of it all. )</li>
<li>iPhone, not pictured.
Is it sad that one of my favorite moments in the return trip home is the
second those airplane wheels touch down and I get to go back to using my iPhone
for things other than pictures?</li>
<li>Kindle Fire. This
item is also known as your guaranteed dinner date when traveling alone. I didn’t think I’d take to an e-reader and I
still don’t adore the reading experience it provides. However, the convenience and ease of getting
almost anything I want to read is unmatched.
My alternative looks like this and trust me, this “bookstore” isn’t what
I would call user-friendly.<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yWWL-ggDuUo/T8RV1KJLQQI/AAAAAAAADtw/LnaurTZZX0M/s1600/IMG_1019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yWWL-ggDuUo/T8RV1KJLQQI/AAAAAAAADtw/LnaurTZZX0M/s320/IMG_1019.JPG" width="320" /></a></li>
<li>Headphones and USB.
Nothing fancy, just necessary.</li>
<li>iTunes. Did you know
the world wide web isn’t truly world wide?
I cannot stream American TV shows from network websites or even rent
movies from Amazon.com, which means the Kindle is only good for reading while
the laptop is the TV stand-in. </li>
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There it is, kids. A
full Best Buy worth of plastic buttons and screens, all in the name of keeping
up with life while you leave it behind.</div>
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</div>Catherinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04483372769461055922noreply@blogger.com0